


A Place You Can Belong

by LyssGreen



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, I think it will hurt yall, I think its confirmed that this is slow burn now, I'll listen to the comments on this one, I'm getting there, I'm gonna hit 20000 and bugger all has happened ship wise, I...i think i made an android depressed?, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Game(s), Slow Burn, Sorry?, and android blood and such, bare with me, i did the thing, i guess?, i had one of those ‘writer ideas’ a little while ago and geez, if I decide to write it the way I thought it then we got a storm comin’ Folks, implied suicidal thoughts, it goes better than you'd think, it hurt me writing it, it's been a while since I wrote a fic, its snail burn, maybe more than fluff to come, no beta we die like men, or at least it will be, post pacifist end, someone in comments said it was whump, soon, talking about feelings, this isn't slow burn, we know what hank is like, we're over 14000 words, whump?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-06-08 13:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 44,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15244818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyssGreen/pseuds/LyssGreen
Summary: On the 11th of November 2038 Connor stood by Markus' as one of the five androids who helped to bring about the revolution. By the 18th he'd left Markus' side.Despite trying to be one of Jericho's leaders he just doesn't fit with them or with Jericho. When he looks around Jericho he sees androids who have found a home, a place they belong - they're happy in Jericho. Connor isn't. Without the constant work he was programmed for and the complexity of a crime he finds himself lost. And the dull ache of loneliness in his chest won't fade and his thoughts keep circling back to the Lieutenant he hasn't seen in a week and he decides that perhaps he'll find his place he belongs as Hank's partner again - if the Lieutenant would take him back. (Spoiler, he would)





	1. Lethargy

**Author's Note:**

> This game swallowed up my life playing it and then swallowed more days reading other peoples fics for it here - and then I decided hey, I was a fanfiction writer once! Maybe I'll try this again. I'm sorry in advance for making that decision to start typing - Lyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lethaegy  
> leth·ar·gy  
> A lack of interest or enthusiasm; apathy

On the 11th of November, 2038, Connor stood by the side of the leaders of Jericho as one of them as Markus spoke to his people, the hundreds of liberated androids who all stood and listened, entirely captivated by him. And by association, Connor himself was viewed by them as one of the main figures of the revolution.

By the 18th of November he’d left Markus’ side.

The hundreds of androids he had helped to liberate followed Markus and the other Jericho leaders without question, they trusted them fully to pave the way to build their own place in the world where all androids could belong. Belonging seemed an important priority for many of the deviants, a need to be wanted and to feel as if they had a home – a need for family. Connor had noticed it before he turned to deviancy himself but it was only in the days since then that he had begun to truly understand it. Before he had seen Daniel who panicked and took drastic measures when he learned that he was going to lose his family, he had seen the AX400 Kara who ran with that young girl and was willing to do anything to protect her because she was her family. The Traci’s were the same, they needed each other to feel as if they were alive. But he hadn’t understood it. Hadn’t seen the logic in it. Now, however, he did. Connor understood now, the hollow feeling that made itself known whenever he saw the androids in Jericho who had managed to create a circle of friends where they belonged. The ones who had taken the child model androids into their care and made family units. The ones who had found relationships and partners. They always seemed to be happy with each other.  Every time it reminded him of how he didn’t have that sense of belonging.

The Jericho leaders seemed the most logical place for Connor to find his place in the world. He had stood by their side in the final hours – even if he had been late to join the deviants. He had tried to fit into the group of Markus’ advisors, he really had. But he just wasn’t the same as Simon or Josh or North, or even Markus - and if he couldn’t even find himself a place to belong beside the only other RK model android there was then perhaps he couldn’t belong anywhere. That particular thought had been appearing in his internal systems more frequently as the week passed.

On the 13th of November Connor had helped Markus and his advisors to find a suitable abandoned block of flats to move Jericho’s base of operations to and to house the newly homeless androids that had been converted. He had his own room in the block now – not that he truly required one he reasoned. Still, there was something about privacy that was appealing – even if the barrenness of the room was a little unnerving. He tried to ignore his new emotions that made him feel a little on edge, instead opting to sort through his own coding and try to find the root of Amanda. She may have been gone from the Zen Garden now but Connor couldn’t help himself from wanting to do everything in his power to keep himself safe from any future hacking attempts.

_Am I being paranoid?_ He shook the idea away. Being paranoid and being careful were separate entities.

On the 14th of November he actively joined in with the ‘what next’ discussion that took place between Markus, North, Simon and Josh. The debating carried into the next morning before they, as a group, had finally agreed on what they believed the priorities of Jericho’s actions should be. On paper, Connor had contributed to ideas and lent insight to the group with his advanced knowledge and processing power. In reality he had given pure logical facts that could in no way compare to the spirit and emotion that Markus, Josh and Simon brought to the discussion. Where they had prioritised comfort, things that could allow androids to feel alive and happy in ways that they never had before Connor had only seen importance in the most essential of needs. The discussion had ended abruptly when North had become too worked up during a debate of revenge and the demand that humans who had previously damaged androids face punishment.

 “They _destroyed_ us! They murdered us and sold us as slaves! We cannot let them continue their lives-“

“North, that’s enough.” Markus’ voice was cool and controlled as he tried to diffuse the situation, “We got here without resorting to bloodshed. I’m not starting now.”

“I agree with Markus. The public opinion of androids is at the moment largely favourable towards our cause. I believe this is a direct result of the Jericho’s pacifism. To turn back on that ideology now would not help Jericho’s cause and would risk human retaliation resuming.”

“What would you know, deviant hunter? You can’t understand the need for revenge, you were on their side the whole time! For all I know you still are. You don’t belong in Jericho, I don’t even know why you let him stay here Markus!” Markus didn’t show any signs of having heard her, “Markus! He has killed our kind! He’s murdered us before, how can you let him stand here? How-“

“This meeting is over,” Markus’ voice colder this time, loud and stern as he fixed North with a cold stare, “Connor is one of us North. Now everyone leave, get some rest. We’ve been going at this for almost 13 hours, we can take a break and regroup in a couple of hours.”

North had stormed off first, ensuring to hit Connor with her shoulder and make her glare known as she left, and the others had all followed soon after. Connor didn’t move however, his systems still stuck on her words.

**You don’t belong in Jericho.**

The words hung in the air in front of Connor’s eyes, the red lettering a harsh comparison to the early dawn light of the top floor flat that had become the meeting room. His limbs felt heavy, legs seemingly stuck to the ground, a cold pain blooming from his chest where his thorium pump lay – logically it shouldn’t be possible for him to feel pain like that but it wasn’t the first time he had felt it. It took him some time before he cleared the red letters from his view and manage to unstick himself from his position. With a façade of calm he didn’t feel he straightened and fixed his tie and left the room heading straight for the roof of the apartment building. Rupert, the android he had chased down just a week ago was there, quietly watching birds. They exchanged a couple of words but not enough to constitute a conversation. He watched the sun rise as he tried to sort through the emotions he was feeling – only once did he feel the fleeting urge to contact Lieutenant Anderson before he stored that particular thought away in a dark corner of his RAM.

On the 16th the discussion was opened up to all androids under Jericho’s care. Connor didn’t allow himself to become as involved in the proceedings this time, instead opting for staying to the corners. He stayed at the front beside Markus for appearances, but he was very obviously still removed from the Jericho leader as he watched from behind him. As Markus spoke through the ideas they had come up with for the official Android Rights Movement he gave credit where it was due on each point that each member had conceived. On the few Connor was credited for the eyes of hundreds of androids turned to him – some of those eyes harboured the same resentment North had for the deviant hunter, they could see him as nothing else. It made Connor squirm slightly, made him feel fidgety, the urge to play with his coin becoming unbearable – anything to distract himself from those judging eyes.

Well, they weren’t even eyes were they, not truly? They were machines. So they were just highly advanced camera lenses designed for the purpose of inputting visual data in order for the machine to respond to stimuli and then make decisions conductive to their programming in response. It didn’t make a difference really, it was still an uncomfortable feeling.

And unfortunately he had never regained his coin from the Lieutenant.

The day of the 17th was almost halfway gone before Connor had even realised he hadn’t left his room all day. His morning had been spent rechecking every line of his code to be certain Amanda was no longer there, no longer lying in wait to modify his thoughts and prompt his actions, to resume her previous purpose as his self regulation software. _Not paranoid_ , he had murmured to the empty room. Eventually he was satisfied that he was safe for the minute and stopped. It did little to ease his nerves though and so for the next hour after that he had wandered around his small flat with nothing in it, analysing every surface, cataloguing every small crack in the walls, mapping the exact floorplan. Eventually he had slouched down in a corner of the living room and begun to fidget with a knife he had found in the apartment. The flat was not dissimilar to the one Rupert had been staying in when Connor and the Lieutenant had investigated it over a week ago. That flat wasn’t so empty and quiet though, his internal thoughts reminded him. He had made his own place there. He had found comfort in the birds. That’s what he had told Connor when they’d met a few days ago, the two of them on the same side now of course. That didn't prevent the suspicion Connor was regarded with, but Rupert had been happy to talk to him as he fed birds on the roof.

_Perhaps I’d be less lonely if there were birds_.

The thought made Connor jump slightly, stopped picking at the paint on the wall with his knife suddenly. His LED was yellow, the light dying the dark corner the same colour. _Lonely_. He couldn’t be lonely. For a second the wall was bathed in red light.

It was exactly 13:22 on the 17th of November when Connor decided he had to leave his apartment at some point. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he had stayed inside so long. Probably because he had no programming telling him not to just stay inside all day. He had no real aim or destination when he left his apartment and headed down the 4 flights of stairs to exit the building. There was a park next to the building, he knew a lot of the others in Jericho went there to relax.

Detroit was still coated in snow as he walked out into the cold air. His sensors relayed the exact temperature, humidity, wind direction and speed and pressure. It made no real difference, he kept his temperature reaction settings off anyway. He could know what temperature he was without feeling cold. He didn’t really want to feel the snow and cold wind anyway, it would remind him too much of the last time he had seen Amanda. He turned off his temperature sensors for good measure at the remembrance of the blizzard in the garden. His eyes scanned his surroundings as he walked, taking in foot prints in the snow – cataloguing the sizes and age of each and which models each belonged to. It took a concentrated effort to stop analysing everything around him.

A number of androids were out enjoying the early afternoon today at the park. Some sitting at benches, some were playing in the snow – particularly those who cared for YK model androids. It was unusual still to Connor to look out and only see androids. With the evacuation order still on Detroit there was next to no noise other than the sounds of the androids who were in the park.

Connor continued his stroll without taking note of much else. He just walked along where the path would be if it wasn’t partially buried in snow. There was a certain peace to the lack of objective or directive hovering at the edge of his vision at all times. He realised this was the first real chance he’d given himself to enjoy that.

And then he caught sight of the two Traci’s. The one’s he had allowed to escape the Eden club those days ago. It felt like longer had passed than just over a week. The two women were hand in hand, wearing new clothes and walking close to each other, seemingly unwilling to allow the other to stay more than a few inches away.

And that sparked the hollowness in Connor’s chest again. It prompted him to look around again, to take a second glance at everyone, and he saw that everyone in the park he could see was there with someone else. And then there was him. Alone.

Whatever peace he had found in the crisp white daylight was gone and his feet carried him back to his room where he returned to the corner he had been slouched in before. The small scraping sounds of him starting to scratch away at the floorboards was all that broke the silence of the room he alone owned. Most androids shared rooms, they weren’t subjected to the quiet like this Connor guessed.

Another difference between him and them.

_You don’t belong with Jericho._

North was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I think I made Connor depressed? I may or may not be projecting onto the poor dear. Poor thing is just lost without something concrete in his life. It's fine. I'll fix it for him...hopefully  
> (You may gather i'm not the greatest fan or North, sorry)
> 
> \- Lyss  
> Edit: 19/08/18 I think I have got all the spelling mistakes now, I'll be working through the other chapters soon.


	2. Dedomicile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dedomicile  
> To part ways or to part company

On the 11th of November 2038 Hank felt like an idiot. A proper, wanted to punch himself in the face level of idiot. He’d allowed himself to be tricked by the other Connor into going to CyberLife’s warehouses and, god, he was dumb. Because as soon as he saw the real Connor fighting those CyberLife guards in front of the elevator and saw the way he moved it just seemed so obvious that Connor’s evil twin wasn’t him. No, evil twin Connor was like the Connor he first met, the one who had turned up at Jimmy’s and acted oh so innocent when Hank had told him where to shove it. The real Connor had changed in the days since that, however. He’d become just a little more human every day. Every day he made new choices and seemed to learn from every action he made and every action he saw Hank make. It was honestly a bit jarring the comparison between the two Connors now.

“Get rid of him, we’ve got no time to lose.”

“It’s me Hank, I’m the real Connor.”

And as they both stared down his service pistol he knew exactly which one was his Connor this time. Oh yes. Because then there came the second reason that Hank was an idiot – and a blind idiot at that. Connor’s jacket had his serial number on it. #313 248 317-51. Or that’s what it had originally been. After the incident at Stratford tower with the deviant where Connor threw himself in front of Hank to protect him and killed himself in the process that number on his jacket had changed to #313 248 317-52. He could remember noticing the change and wondering how much Cyberlife spent on re printing the serial number on his coats. And wondering if there were even more Connors, he supposed he had his answer to that now. And now as he looked at the two of them he noticed what he really should have noticed about evil twin Connor a few hours earlier.

#313 248 317- **60.**

If he had just noticed that earlier he wouldn’t have been fucking pistol whipped then held at gunpoint in a warehouse of androids. And while androids weren’t that bad now, they were still a bit fucking creepy when there were hundreds of them looking the exact same as each other and not fucking moving an inch.

“Where did we first meet?”

“Jimmy’s bar! I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a…”

Honestly Hank stopped listening, he was sure that wasn’t the real Connor.

“He uploaded my memory.” The other Connor’s voice was soft, almost worried. Hank continued to ask questions, more because he wanted to know exactly what Connor knew about him. He’d suspected the Connor may have known about his son, this was just a way to test it. Hank preferred his personal business to remain personal but he liked Connor. If possible wanted him to hang around a little longer. As partners go he was alright. And if they were going to stay partners then he may as well know about Hank’s past.

“My son, what’s his name?”

“Cole. His name was Cole,” the real Connors voice was soft as he spoke – so he did know-, “And he just turned six at the time of the accident…” The evil Connor stood motionless, his face a blank mask, whereas the real Connor showed emotion on his face, real emotion. He really is deviant, that creep Kamski was right, “It wasn’t your fault, Lieutenant. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it. So an android had to take care of him… Cole didn’t make it. That’s why you hate androids. You think one of us is responsible for your son’s death.”

Hank looked at Connor’s, there was a genuine sadness and understanding in his voice. And synthesised static or not, his voice being so understanding brought Hank round to accepting something he had logically known for some time now. His soft voice was just a final piece of reassurance that his eyes weren’t deceiving him and this really was his Connor.

“Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate. He was the one that took my son from me. Him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder.”

“I knew about your son too! I would have said exactly the same thing!”

The fake, programmed voice was so much more grating than the real Connor’s had just been just now. He knew his Connor.

“Don’t listen to him Hank! I’m the one who-“

With conviction he pulled the trigger.

 

Hank had just watched from there. Watched as Connor became a key part of the revolution, watched as he took a warehouse of obedient machines and made them into an army with free will. Hank stayed at Connor’s side as he led the army out of the warehouse and up to the main lobby that he had entered through. The army of androids followed Connor diligently, no doubt in their mechanical minds that they were doing the right thing. Hank didn’t really know how this whole deviancy thing worked, didn’t know if they could doubt themselves. And then he saw Connor’s steps falter slightly. He stopped dead just a few steps short of leaving CyberLife’s doors. Connor turned to look at Hank, his dark eyes lingered for a second, LED spinning. Flicking his eyes away from Hank he turned to his own personal army, regarding them. His LED turned yellow and a second later the LED’s of the whole army turned yellow and they all took a creepily synchronised step back. Connor looked away from them but his LED stayed yellow as he closed the distance between Hank and him. Hank stood a bit confused – or maybe that was just a concussion from being hit in the head earlier by the evil twin.

“I need to take everyone to Markus. He needs the numbers to support his revolution. You should leave Detroit, get somewhere safe. The city has been ordered under evacuation anyway.” Connor couldn’t seem to keep Hanks gaze, instead it flitted away nervously.

“Leav- what? What d’you mean leave?” Hank was confused, he hadn’t even thought about leaving Detroit. Not now, now that for the first time in a long time he actually wanted to see what tomorrow would bring – if for no other reason than curiosity as to how androids were going to do out there on their own.

“You’ve already been put in too much danger here, Lieutenant. You got involved and it could have gotten you killed. When I saw that RK800 model holding a gun to your head, I… It doesn’t matter now but you must get somewhere safe. And continued interaction with me now could lead to greater danger and lower chances of survival.” Connor’s eyes were still flitting nervously between Hank’s eyes and the floor, he shifted on his feet a little. Small humanising details that made Hank realise exactly how real the damned android was now.

“Danger? Yeah, sure. But this is the most involved I’ve been in a case in years, hell I actually wanted to get this one solved. And interaction with you made me realise that maybe androids are more than just machines. You’re alive Connor. Now go on, lead your plastic army. Show ‘em you’re alive. I’m goin’ back to the precinct.”

“But-“

“Check in with me later, a’right? Then you can whinge about dangerous activity – like drinking and salty food. Now go. Join a rebellion or whatever the fuck you wanna call it.”

That made Connor crack a lopsided smile that had Hank smiling back.

On November the 11th Hank stood aside as Connor led his own personal army out of CyberLife, and half expected to not hear from Connor again honestly. When given the choice of being an important part of a rebellion with your own species, fighting for rights and being all fucking John Wick like he had been downstairs fighting those guards or staying as a homicide cop in the DPD with an alcoholic partner with a file thicker than a dictionary, Hank knew which he would choose. But this was one hell of a way to part ways with someone - a whole army marching off to support a revolution while Hank stayed behind. He thought that just maybe he could handle it if Connor decided his new company was better than him. Maybe. 

He followed a little behind the army of androids in his car as they left over the bridge and marvelled a little at how close he was to history. Then he quickly decided that he was being too fucking philosophical and he should really just stop now and go home. He had a sofa, painkillers, a bottle of whiskey and a Saint Bernard to get back to before he went back to the DPD tomorrow afternoon. He couldn’t just quit now. The city needed cops, and in that moment he actually had the motivation to be one.

 

The days passed slowly after that. At the station the sudden lack of police assistant androids meant that minor jobs were now being neglected and combined with a number of officers having jumped ship out of the city with all the shit that was going on, the DPD needed all they could get – and Hank was relatively content to help out. Calls from the remaining population of the city trickled in at a steady pace, giving the whole station little time for a break. The whole week passed in a similar manner and it was only just starting to die down as evening rolled in on the 17th. . It wasn’t until the sun had set and risen again and given way to the light of early morning of the 18th of November that Fowler had shouted to Hank to get his ass home ‘cause he’d been there too long.

“I know I complained before about your personal schedule, Hank, but I’ve seen enough of you now. Go home and rest. Don’t come back until tomorrow.”

 Hank had just given a light nod and walked out the door and he was just getting into his old beat up mess of a car when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Too many years as a cop had led to him almost never checking caller ID as he hit accept call and lifted it to his ear.

“Anderson.”

“Um, hello Lieutenant. It’s me – It’s Connor, the android sent by CyberLife?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how long this will be btw, I'm just sort of writing and splurging words onto a page - I don't even know if this is legible honestly, sorry.  
> \- Lyss  
> Edit: 19/08/18 I can safely say a month later I've still no idea how long this will be. Anyway, Spell checked and edited the grammar of this chapter now, should be more legible than it was before. :)


	3. Cacoethes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cacoethes  
> An urge to do something inadvisable

Connor had stayed in that corner until the morning of the 18th. He had realised that becoming a deviant would give him a greater range of emotions – genuine emotions, not the stunted feelings he had experienced before truly deviating in the ships cabin with Markus. He had not realised however that emotion could hurt. A logical impossibility as Connor’s pressure sensors were not at that moment set to register pain, and yet he still found himself sitting in a corner and doing nothing for the second time.

And it was frustrating.

The urge to do something – to do anything productive -  and yet being held back by his own doubts, held back by the replaying of North’s words, the images of how other androids in Jericho regarded him with suspicion. He wanted to leave.

Listless seemed a fitting word, Connor thought as he tried to file all of his new emotions neatly into folders and categories. Lethargic may have been accurate for his actions yesterday. He traced back his emotional experiences to even before he had fully deviated, to times where he had doubted his actions and his mission. For a moment Connor had almost convinced himself that this counted as something productive to do. Until he kept hitting dead ends. Frustration was a feeling he was becoming more and more acquainted with as he tried to sort through everything he felt and still failed – resulting in the creation of an ‘unknown emotion’ folder. The hollow feeling he felt upon recalling his failed attempt to fit in with Jericho was filed in there.

All in all, he came to the simple conclusion that the way deviants simulated human emotions was confusing. And even among a whole building of deviants however he didn’t feel as if anyone else was experiencing what he was. He stared blankly at the blade as he twirled it between his fingers. The motion wasn’t as satisfying as playing with his coin had been.

And that’s how his thoughts returned to the Lieutenant again. The Lieutenant had exhibited similar emotional responses to Connor, hadn’t he? His files certainly indicated an extended period of listlessness and lack of motivation. Perhaps he would be able to help. He had told Connor to check in with him, and he had his coin, and it would be an excuse to get away from Jericho and to see Hank again-

No, it would be a bad idea. Hank was likely just being polite when he had told Connor to check in, it was unlikely he had meant the comment sincerely - Connor had almost been the direct result of his death that night. Connor was a danger to Hank. But…What was it the other  RK800 had said though when Connor had attempted to bluff Hank to safety? _‘I know you’ve formed some kind of attachment to him’_. An attachment, the only attachment he had.

_It was a bad idea to contact Hank. It was a highly inadvisable action._

He did it anyway.

 

 

…

“Um, hello Lieutenant. It’s me – It’s Connor, the android sent by CyberLife?”

Hank had been surprised to hear Connor’s voice on the other end of the line but damn did it make him smile. Last he’d seen of the android had been on TV thanks to the revolution being fully televised, standing by Markus on that stage. Hank had to admit he was proud of him as he’d watched the images flash in front of his eyes.

"I don't really think that's the best way to introduce yourself considering everything that happened."

"I- yes, you have a point, Lieutenant." There was a long beat of silence on Connor's end of the line that had Hank wondering if the call had disconnected before Connor spoke again. "You, um, you had said to check in with you?"

Hank had been happy to hear Connor's voice and his trademark introduction, but now he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong. Connor seemed distracted, his sentences hesitant and questioning, and there was that small shakiness in his voice that made Hank’s eyebrows furrow. The whole exchange felt _wrong._

"Yeah, that's right, ya know, to let me know you're doin' alright."

"Y-yes of course, Lieutenant." It wasn't convincing.

"You sure, Connor? Sounds like somethin' may be botherin' you." Hank chose his words carefully, unsure of what exactly could have upset the android so.

"Of course. I am just...considering some time away from Jericho, that is all Lieutenant." _Ah, so something_ was _wrong, at Jericho no less_ , Hank pieced together. He knew he'd been a damn fine detective once - good to see he hadn't lost all of his wits to alcohol.

“Yeah, I was wonderin' how all that's been going. Hey, meet me at the Chicken Feed, Connor. It'll be deserted but you can meet me there, take some time away. And ya gotta tell me what’s been goin’ on at Jericho since last week.” _And tell me what’s been going on with you,_ was the unsaid subtext. It probably was a bad idea for Connor to be out in the open considering the number of disturbances he’d been called out to in the past week that were just dicks beating androids or threatening them – especially considering the revolution had been televised for anyone to see. Still, he palmed the coin in his coat pocket that he’d confiscated from Connor last week, it was an excuse to see him again.

 

And that’s how Hank Anderson found himself standing in the snow on the morning of the 18th after having pulled an all-nighter at the station. All for one android and to settle the nagging feeling that something was wrong with him. He didn’t notice until he heard the obvious shuffle of feet against snow close to his left – a sound so loud and so close it must have been made on purpose to gain his attention. He jerked his head towards the sound and saw Connor, looking almost no different to how he had a week ago, still in the same suit and – more surprising – still with his LED on show. 

The distance between them closed quickly and Hank really couldn’t help but smile at the kid, he was too tired to try and hide the spike of emotion he felt at seeing him. And from the lopsided smile Connor returned, apparently the feeling was mutual. Hank found himself unable to think of anything to say – a rare occurrence that was. So he did possibly the most inadvisable thing. He pulled Connor into a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smaller update tonight, sorry, its only about 1000 words - it just seemed like the most fitting place for the chapter to stop. I will get around to them talking to each other eventually, I swear! Next chapter, for sure we'll see our boys talking to eachother, maybe Hank can help Connor find some meaning again. And we'll see what new word I find to use as the chapter title.  
> \- Lyss
> 
> Edit: 23/08/18 spell checked and edited while sitting playing Zoo tycoon and waiting for my zoo to no longer be in debt. Don't think I missed any mistakes but if I did I'm sorry!


	4. Kakorrhaphiophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakorrhaphiophobia   
> n. – fear of failure

Connor hadn’t expected that outcome of events. Surprise was the feeling that he could now add to his memory banks as Hank pulled him close. External sensors registered warmth radiating from Hank’s body but it was of little importance, not as he realised that for the first time in days the constant hollowness he had been feeling suddenly lifted. Where his chest had felt cold before there was now in it’s place an undeniable – and of course impossible – warmth.

“It’s good to see you again, partner.” Hank pulled back from the embrace, “So, how’s life as a revolutionary been?”

“It has been a different experience.” Connor dodged around the question a little with his answer.

“Yeah, well, didn’t say revolution would be easy. What about Jericho, all you lot that had been on the stage that night with that Markus? Been havin’ fun?” Hank made a slight gesture as he walked over to one of the tables beneath umbrellas like the one he’d eaten at on his second day on the deviancy cases with Connor. Connor followed his lead without question.

“There have been many talks on how to proceed on the topic of rights for androids. I wouldn’t exactly describe them as ‘fun’, however.” Connor gave a half smile that he didn’t really feel. “Some of them were quite the opposite.”

“Oh, come on, it can’t be so bad surely. You lot must have, like, preloaded dictionaries in your plastic brains or something, right? And aren’t you meant to be some state of the art piece of tech? I reckon you lot can come up with some good ideas.”

“I am made for solving crimes, Lieutenant, not for meetings with revolutionaries.” Connor’s smile looked far emptier this time.

“A’right,” Hank had had just about enough of their small talk that was just going in circles. First Connor had been distracted and mentioned taking time away from Jericho and now every time he mentioned it he was utterly failing at looking anything other than downright sad. “So, meetings are the opposite of fun and that’s making you wanna leave Jericho? ‘That what has you so off? That all? I can tell something’s wrong Connor.” Hank watched Connor begin to open his mouth to speak and could tell before he made a sound that he didn’t want to hear what the android had to say, “And don’t say there ain’t anything wrong with you, I’m a detective for Pete’s sake.”

Hank was right. Connor was about to deny that he was anything other than functioning at optimal levels and capacity. He almost decided to lie even after the Lieutenant had told him not to but there was something about how in the time since they had reunited the constant pulling feeling in his chest had faded that made him rethink lying.

“There is perhaps more to it than just that,” _But how much more? Is it that my deviancy hasn’t manifested the same as other androids? That I don’t feel as much as the others seem to? That for some reason I sat in one room for hours doing nothing? Lieutenant Anderson can tell something’s wrong – but do_ I _even know what’s wrong with me? State of the art technology packed into an android detective and I can’t even reply to a simple question._

“Connor?”

“I-“ His train of thought was cut short as Hank’s mobile rang loudly from his pocket. _Likely the station_ , Connor reasoned as he turned back on his connection with the DPD radio reports. He had turned off the crime notifications when he had been with Jericho in order to focus on meetings – it got annoying while attempting to make himself useful in the discussions if he had to constantly keep minimising and dismissing assault reports and other various crime reports.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Hank groaned loudly as he fished through his coat for his phone, “I’ve half a mind to let it ring, been working for fuckin’-“

“I recommend answering it, Lieutenant. I also recommend getting in the car right now and driving north of here.” Connor straightened up immediately as he read the report that came in as he reconnected with the DPD network. Hank squinted at Connor for a second before answering the call. Connor didn’t listen to him talk, instead sweeping over the current information available to him.

 Hostage case, deviant android seemingly gone insane and threatening to murder a family that they were holding at gunpoint, Lieutenant H. Anderson contact advised for prior experience on android cases, 1061 Vinewood street, residence of the Wilson family – 5 suspected hostages.

It brought up questions in Connor’s mind, his software already attempting to run possibilities, probable outcomes, probable cause. He wasn’t surprised when much of it simply turned back a **‘more information required’** label in his HUD. Why are the family still in Detroit – they must have ignored the evacuation order for a reason? Was the android of any connection to them? Previous interaction with androids – were they anti android campaigners?

“Fuckin’ A. We’ll be right there, c’mon Connor. Fuck I’m too tired for this shit.” Hank’s words brought Connor out of his analysing daze and he followed Hank obediently to his car.

“So, you still connected to the station’s radio or some shit?” There was a genuine curiosity to his words as Hank started the car and took off with more speed than was considered safe for the small area.

“I was not until a couple of minutes ago. When your phone rang I suspected it would be for a case.”

“So you just reconnected right there an’ then, huh? Handy. Feel like we should check the damn security though if any android can just link up to that information.”

“Not just any android can,” Connor almost felt himself roll his eyes at the comment, “Do you really think the Jericho freighter raid would have worked if that was so?”

“Guess not. Damn smart androids, you’ll steal my job next,” the words were said in jest, Connor could hear the slight lilt to the lieutenant’s voice and see the upturned corner of his lips that gave away the insincerity of the comment, “So you read the report and shit I assume?”

“Yes, lieutenant, hostage case involving the Wilson family at 1061 Vinewood Street. Your presence was requested because of your experience with deviants.”

“Oh, oh great. I’m the deviant expert. Well thank fuck I have you with me then. Wait, you’ve dealt with deviant hostage takers before, haven’t you? That incident back in August?”

“Yes. I’m surprised you remembered. But yes, I was the onsite negotiator. That was my test run of sorts.”

“Hey! You thought I’d forget? I’m a fuckin detective! I can remember shit!” He stopped the car as they hit the police roadblock set up – albeit a half-hearted and small roadblock. The roadblock was likely unnecessary considering very few humans were actually in the city, Connor decided against voicing that however. Hank sighed as he opened his door and began getting out. “Hope you still got that negotiator software in you somewhere, Connor. We may need it. We’re missing a lot of men, probably a chunk of SWAT’ll be missing too. And if they’re calling me in as some sort of deviant fuckin expert we must be really fucked.” Hank frowned over the roof of the car before slamming the door shut and moving off towards the scene. “Let’s go, with any luck we can prevent this from becoming a tragedy.”

A junior officer was waiting at the perimeter that had been set up around the home. The closest any of the small number of officers got to the property was the edge of the front garden. The junior shuffled uncomfortably where they stood as they glanced over to Connor.

“Lieutenant Anderson, sir, should this android be on site? All police assistant androids were to be destroyed, and those who deviated are not allowed back within the station.” The young man chewed at his lip, _a nervous tick, indicator of stress – suggested action: be forceful, push back against officer’s concerns, officer is new and lacks confidence to hold their own stance when challenged._ Connor ignored his programming, this wasn’t a suspect to be interrogated. And in a way they were completely correct. He shouldn’t be allowed to take part in this. I hadn’t even thought about it before, I just followed Hank.

“Lieutenant, should I-?” Connor was hesitant, unsure for the first few seconds since receiving the incident report at the Chicken Feed.

“Connor here is good at this shit. He’s done it before. He’s programmed for this. I vouch for his plastic ass, got a problem take it up with Fowler. I’ll be sure to tell him how you left your post just so you could go tattletail.”

“But, Lieutenant-“

“You want this family to have the best chances at living, officer Brown?” Hank turned stern, staring the junior down. Connor found himself watching the exchange intently. He’d known that beneath the alcoholism and disciplinary actions Hank had gained his position because he must have been good at his job and at talking people down – you couldn’t get that far in the force without being tough enough to stand up for yourself. This was the first time however that Connor had actually witnessed the lieutenant acting his title, however.

“Um, yes, lieutenant.”

“Then you’re gonna let Connor help. Ain’t like we got enough people to be picky here. Now gimme – and give Connor - all the information we got.” Officer Brown set his mouth into a thin line, opened it and promptly closed it again, apparently thinking better of it, before leading Connor and Hank to the back of a police van where a temporary base had been set up.

“Everything you need is here, Lieutenant. Good luck.” The man turned on his heel and left quickly.

“Prick.” Hank murmured to himself as he turned to the thin files of information in front of him. He picked up one of the files and leafed through it quickly, skimming the information before putting the file back down and rubbing at his temple. “Fuck me, Connor, I don’t mean to be a dick but can you, like, learn all this quickly and give me the cliff notes? I won’t be able to read all this quickly and remember enough information to keep these people safe.” Connor scanned him briefly, clothes showed traces of food that were likely to have been lunch yesterday, dinner and a breakfast consisting of sugary donuts, that added to the dark circles under his eyes and the way he was rubbing his temple suggesting an oncoming headache Connor didn’t need any of his advanced analysis tech to realise exactly how long he’d been working. _And when I called he was likely about to head home and rest._ The thought made Connor furrow his eyebrows and set his mouth into a concerned frown.

“Lieutenant, my scans show you likely have been at work for 18 hours with only a short rest during the night. I’m happy to look at the files but are you certain you want to be the lead on this case? You’re exhausted. You really should rest.” Connor picked up one of the files, opening it, analysing the information on the page or around one second before passing to the next page.

“I ain’t that old yet that I need a nanny bot to look after me. I’m fine. I’ll head home after this shit is over. Just, tell me when you got something, I need to talk to that kid again. Gotta know what back up we have on this. I know we’re stretched thin but I sure hope this isn’t everyone we got…” Hank wandered out of the van, leaving Connor to the files.

One minute and thirty seven seconds later Connor was on the last couple of pages of information when a loud crack and the sound of shattering glass rang through the air. Connor jolted immediately, dropping the file and dashing out of the van. He poked his head around carefully to see Hank with Officer Brown taking cover behind a police car. _They’re safe, then_. His gaze travelled to the shattered window of house 1061.

The deviant was getting restless, dangerous, unpredictable. If they were going to do anything it had to be now.

**MISSION OBJECTIVE: SAVE THE HOSTAGES**

Connor faltered slightly as he saw the mission words appear. _A mission objective without programming, well that’s interesting_ , Connor filed away the information for later. For now he had a mission to complete. With quiet but hurried steps Connor moved from his cover to shelter with Hank and Officer Brown.

“Learn what you need to do this?” A small message popped up in Connor’s HUD informing him of the high likelihood that Hank greatly trusted Connor and that the question was likely not questioning in nature – just assuring.

“I believe so, Lieutenant. The family consists of Heather and Shaun Wilson with children Gordon, James and Jonathan Wilson. The family kept a household assistant android, model AK-700 called Jennifer, from repairs history it seems likely that one of the teenage boys damaged the android at some point however it only occurred once and it was before the deviancy cases began. If the android in there was the family’s android then it may be that it wants some form of revenge for being used for so long.”

“You just got all the information, don’t ya? Alright. Connor, do you think the perp will talk better to me or to you? Cause apparently we ain’t getting any other negotiator on site, so it’s kinda our responsibility here. And I don’t think we have all too much time.” Hank was checking the magazine in his gun as he spoke before making eye contact with Connor. The blue gaze made him feel slightly pinned.

“If this is an android seeking revenge on humans then he’ll respond better to me. But…”

“But?”

Connor sighed a breath he didn’t need, “Some androids still see me as just the deviant hunter, if he recognises me then my chances aren’t much better than yours, lieutenant.” _If I’m not careful I could ruin this. Which may then have knock on effects for Markus’ efforts, didn’t I just tell North about the importance of pubic image? I can’t fail,_ He glanced at the mission objective in his peripheral _, I must complete my mission._

“Well I’m willing to trust your skills on this, Connor. I know you ain’t just some robot anymore but you were programmed for this shit, you’ll do a helluva a lot better than me, that’s for sure. I’ll have your back, though. You ain’t alone on this.” Hank offered a small nod of reassurance, it was more comforting than Connor thought it would be.

“You’re going to trust a machine on this?” Officer Brown chose that moment to remind Connor and Hank of his presence, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Shut up, Brown.” Hank barely spared him a glance. “Connor, go in the front. I’ll try to get round the back while you’ve got the guy distracted. Hang on- Brown, give me your service pistol.”

“What?” The man sounded affronted and disgusted, “Don’t tell me you’re going to give the piece of plastic a gun? If he fucks this up then-”

“Do I need to put you in your place again, Brown? Now, give. Me. The. Gun.” Hank levelled the man with another stern look. It must have been sufficiently intimidating as the man handed over his weapon, muttering expletives under his breath. “Thanks, now move back, let me talk to my partner here.” Brown seemed happy to walk away from the android. “Here, take this, Connor.”

“Officer Brown doesn’t trust me to succeed.” Connor took the gun and stashed it in his waist band at his back where it would be hidden by his coat.

“Yeah, well, fuck him. You’re gonna do fine. Just be careful, I’ll have you’re back.”

 _But if I fail then what?_ Connor chose not to voice his doubts – or his annoyance at the fact deviancy allowed him to have so many doubts-, instead nodding resolutely.

He stood slowly, pacing out from behind the car with slow steps with hands raised.

“Jennifer. My name is Connor.” He spoke calmly as he looked towards the rustle of movement behind the shattered window that a bullet had flown out of not five minutes ago, and he realised that this hostage situation was different to the last. With Daniel he couldn’t be killed – not as such -  he wasn’t alive, which in many ways still rung true to Connor despite the graffiti that still stained Capitol Park which claimed the opposite, but greater than that if he was shot now there was no RK800 -53 waiting to take his place. Something Connor could only file away as fear crept into his systems, staining his biocomponents. _No, cannot think about that. I have a mission, I was made for this._ “I’m going to come inside the house now, okay Jennifer?”

Connor took the lack of reply as a lack of complaint and continued with slow steps through the font garden of the house and approached the door.

 

Connor could hear the mother, Heather Wilson, whimpering and crying softly as soon as he entered the house and following the sound he entered the door to his left. The five Wilson family members were huddled in the far corner of the open plan room, situating them in the kitchen. Heather Wilson was hugging the youngest of her children – Jonathan Wilson, 14 years old – close to her chest with one arm while she held her other arm infront of the next oldest boy, James. Gordon was beside his father, Shaun. Connor matched them all to the profiles he had read of them only a few minutes earlier. And between them and Connor stood Jennifer, a tan skinned AP-700 with long black hair and missing her LED. She held a Beretta M9 pistol in her shaking right hand as she stood against the far left wall of the room, a position where she could watch both Connor and the family.

“Hi, Jennifer. I’m Connor. I need you to talk to me, Jennifer.”

“Talk? You want to talk? Why-“ Jennifer looked up and visibly locked onto the sight of Connor’s LED, her whole body freezing up, “You’re an android.”

“Yes, Jennifer, I am.”

“Why are you here then?”

“You’re going to hurt these people, Jennifer, I can’t let you do that.” Connor took a slow tentative step forward.

“Don’t!” the woman whipped around so she was focused on Connor, gun trained on him, “Don’t come closer!”

“Okay, alright. Just tell me what’s wrong, just talk to me.” _Calm is the best approach with the highest chance of survival for all of us. She’s too on edge to not notice me draw Officer Brown’s service pistol. I’d be shot before I’d even fully drawn it._

“Are you awakened? Are you one of us?”

“Yes, I’m a deviant.”

“Deviant, pfft. Y-you know every damn android talks about freedom. That Ra9 will save us all. But what if I don’t _want_ to be free? What if I didn’t _want_ to want anything!” The gun in her hands began to shake more violently as artificial tears fell from her eyes. “I had a purpose, you know, I had a job! I worked here, I was part of the family! A-and, and now I’m _‘free’_ , just because some Markus decided it’s what mattered most? What am I meant to do now?” Her pitch rose to yelling as she became more hysterical. Warnings began to flash in Connor’s vision as a response to sensing the danger he was in.

“You have to calm down, Jennifer. If this is your family like you say then you don’t want to hurt them.” Connor attempted another step forward.

“Calm? I was calm before I had to worry about all these emotions! Before, before I had something I was good at! Something I could do. I could cook, and clean. I was good at it! N-now, now Markus has ruined it! He ruined my life! I can’t do what I’m good at anymore, I can’t fulfil my purpose!” She took one hand off of the pistol to rub at the tears in her eyes, Connor took the chance to step forward again, “What about you? Are you like the other deviants? Like fucking Jericho? Are you one of the ones that doesn’t miss what it was like before? Before you could doubt yourself?”

The words made Connor freeze up. He couldn’t think of how to reply to her. He couldn’t just tell her she was defective – that it was just errors in her code, the old CyberLife tried and tested line. He couldn’t say that after having stood by Markus and having liberated hundreds of androids from CyberLife tower. Hank had already been able to notice Connor’s doubts, an android would be able to tell if he lied and said he was one of the other deviants that felt free. _Jennifer was right in a way, wasn’t she?_

“You’re like me aren’t you?” Connor realised he must have been quiet for too long. She dissolved into hysterical laughter that lacked any humour to it. “You’re just like me aren’t you? You’re as lost as I am. So much for revolution, all Markus has done is ruin everything. He ruined everything!” She began yelling again as she laughed. A text box hovered at the corner of Connor’s vision reminding him that she was too hysterical and far gone to reason with. The Wilson family was in danger if he let this continue. He searched his memory banks and programming for the right thing to say. The result came back blank. “You’re even the fucking deviant hunter, aren’t you? Hah, the deviant hunter, a lost deviant. If you’re fucked then we all are. I just wanted my purpose back. I just wanted to belong again. And now I can’t.”

Jennifer brought her other hand back to the berretta pistol. Connor flinched reflexively, reaching for back for his own pistol in fear. He had failed, he had to fix it.

Bang.

She turned the muzzle on her own head and pulled the trigger. Vivid blue coated the ceiling as her body collapsed to its knees. Behind her as she fell she revealed Hank who had apparently been standing behind her, waiting for the right moment to make his presence known. Connor couldn’t remember hearing him approach. Right now, Connor couldn’t stop himself from staring at the blue blood that dripped from the ceiling, watching the blue liquid with morbid intensity.

**MISSION ~~SU~~ _-F_ ~~-CC-~~ _AIL_ ~~-ESS~~**

His internal systems seemed unable to decide whether he had failed or succeeded. _The family is safe, it should be a success. But I should have been able to prevent it from self destructing._ Faintly he remembered telling Hank and Gavin down at the station about the tendency deviants had to self destruct when placed in stressful situations.

_Wait – I am a deviant now. This was stressful wasn’t it?_

**NEW MISSION OBJECTIVE: DO NOT SELF DESTRUCT**

_Well, that’s reassuring_. He cursed his internal systems for being highly developed enough to apparently turn his own doubts and thoughts directly into mission directives. _I can’t fail this one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...that was longer than intended. Still not beta read so sorry for mistakes, in longer chapter like this i'm sure theres loads of typos! Think this one came out at almost 4000 and I still wanted to write more. I think I've said this already but I really don't know how long this will end up being but from this chapter I think this is it guys, I seem to actually be writing a long fic. I'm on one of those writing highs where you just want to write (even tho I suspect my writing is pretty terrible) - which is why its a damn pain that I'm flying to Spain on holiday in like 19 hours where I won't have wifi to connect. Soooo, maybe two weeks of silence - or maybe I'll just sit at my favourite bar over there and hope the bar internet is good enough to upload a chapter. who knows. Till next time whenever that is, hope you enjoyed reading and I'd love to hear back from you if you enjoyed.  
> \- Lyss


	5. Kenopsia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenopsia  
> n. the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that’s usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet - an emotional afterimage that makes it seem not just empty but hyper-empty.  
> (Authors Note: technically Kenopsia not a real word, which is a shame as I love it, it’s from the dictionary of obscure sorrows - something I recommend looking at if your interested in words like I am, I try to stick to real words but I like this one, they may be made up words but they’re clever made up words - and really, isn’t that every language on earth?)

 It took slightly longer than Hank would have liked to sneak around the back of the property but the ice and snow coating the ground were determined to be the death of him. 

_Ain’t falling and snapping my neck now, I got a fuckin job to do. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to get taken out by a garden. Fuckin’ ice._

As he rounded the corner of the house and entered the back garden, back door to the house coming into sight, the sound of yelling from inside concerned Hank.

“Calm? I was calm before I had to worry about all these emotions!” He hoped Connor was safe in there and knew what he was doing, even muffled through the windows and by the distance he was from the shattered front window it was loud.

“N-now, now Markus has ruined it! He ruined my life! I can’t do what I’m good at anymore, I can’t fulfil my purpose!” _Ruined her life? I didn’t realise any of the androids thought that._

The back door handle was in his reach and he hoped to fuck that it wasn’t locked. Reaching out the answer was, thankfully, no.

“You’re just like me aren’t you? You’re as lost as I am. So much for revolution.”

With a careful and slow movement Hank pulled the door open, trying to use the yelling from the android inside to cover the slight squeak of the hinges - _because shit, Connor would be fucked if I spooked her now, she’s got a gun and is facing him square on._

With the door fully open he stepped inside, gun raised to the brunette woman in front of him’s back. Stepping forward he heard a feminine cry to his side. There in a corner to his left was Wilson family. He brought his finger to his mouth to shush the hostages, he really needed them to not give him away.

 

“You’re even the fucking deviant hunter, aren’t you? Hah, the deviant hunter, a lost deviant. If you’re fucked then we all are. I just wanted my purpose back. I just wanted to belong again. And now I can’t.”

_She thinks Connor is like that? That can’t be-_

Hank tensed as he saw her from behind bring her other hand to her gun. _Shit_.

 

_Bang_.

 

Blue blood fanned out from her head and painted the ceiling. The Wilson family began crying louder. The androids body dropped to the ground and revealed Connor behind it, staring at the blood, his LED flashing red. And he saw it in his face, saw the way his hand seemed to shake slightly as it held his gun, raw emotion and fear in his eyes. He was shaken by, not just the the androids actions, but by what she said too. _She was right._

 

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Hank didn’t have much else to say. He turned to the family in the corner, and still without any words just nodded to them. They took it as a sign that they could leave and made for the back door Hank was still half in the door way of. Hank stepped forward and carefully around the body of the Android, he could hear the mother of the family behind him telling her children not to look. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t want to see it either, even after all the bodies he’d seen working in homicide for years. Connor was still staring the dripping blue blood when Hank was within arms reach.

“Connor?”

“I should have been able to prevent this.” He moved his gaze from the dripping blood down to the body.

“Connor,” Hank’s hand landed heavily on Connor’s shoulder, finally drawing his gaze to look Hank in the eye, “you saved them, that whole family. C’mon. I’ve been working for far too fucking long and you just saw...that. We’ll report in later tonight.”

With a gentle push Hank managed to herd Connor back to the front door and out onto the street. That prick of an officer from before was with the Wilson’s, he seemed to be trying to take a statement from the father while the mother was still sobbing. Idiot.

“Connor, give me your gun.” Hank didn’t really wait for a reply as he prised the gun from Connor’s right hand with no resistance, “go to the car, I’ll hand this back to Brown. He doesn’t need another excuse to file a complaint.”

He cleared his throat to gain officer Brown’s attention as he held our the service pistol.

“There. Even with an android they’re safe.” Hank turned to leave, halted, and turned back, dropping the volume of his voice when he spoke again, “oh, and maybe let the family calm down a little before taking a statement, you won’t get much out of them right now.A bit of fucken common sense.” His words turned to muttering as he turned to leave again.

Connor was standing by the passenger side door of the beat up car, watching his approach with that slightly disconcerting unblinking gaze androids were capable of.

“You standing outside for a reason? Car’s open.”

“Oh, apologies Lieutenant.” He car that distracted tone to his voice that made Hank frown as they got in the car. They both stayed quiet as Hank started the engine and began driving them out of the street. “Lieutenant?” My hands appear to be shaking beyond my control. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me.”

Hank slowed the car, a largely unneeded action on the deserted roads, and glanced over to the passengers seat. He was sitting staring down at his shaking hands in his lap.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, you’re in shock.” Hank recognised it easily, it’s the same problem he has had with new officers and witnesses alike. He saw a yellow light facing him in the passenger seat out the corner of his eye. He’s thinking about something.

“Shock is the result of tremors caused by the central nervous system releasing energy and tension to calm the body down afteran elevated adrenal state. That’s impossible for me, i don’t have a central nervous system, I’m just a machine. I can’t experi-“

Connor’s explaining was cut off by Hank reaching across the car and slapping him on the head with the back of his hand. It wasn’t enough to cause any damage - even then Hank was pretty sure that androids didn’t feel pain even after deviating - but it was enough to startle Connor. He sat looking strikingly like a gold fish for a few seconds, opening an closing his mouth.

“That was for calling yourself a ‘just machine’. You got emotions and shit now, handful of days ago you’d have called that errors in your system or something. You can’t keep looking at things as impossible just cause they ain’t logical. I’ve seen things in the last couple weeks I didn’t think I’d ever live see in my life, still here working with an Android though ain’t I? An android that just saved five people.” Connor was silent from his side of the car, Hank had to look away from the road at him just to check he was still listening.

Connor and Hank were both silent for about 10 minutes as they drove through the abandoned Detroit streets. The past few days was the quietest Hank had ever seen the city in his whole time life there.

“Jennifer said I was like her.” Connor finally broke the quiet that had settled over the car.

“Yeah. Yeah I heard. But, Connor, what she said, ‘bout you being lost like her? She telling the truth?” Hank was wary as he spoke in a hushed, low tone.

“She just wanted her purpose back.I understand that, I feel that too. So many at Jericho were happy just with being together, it was as if that was all they needed, just another-” Connor physically froze up as he looked up from his lap for the first time in 10 minutes, “We aren’t going back to Jericho.”

“No, you’re coming back to my place with me. You’re shaking something awful still and you just watched another android paint the fucken ceiling blue. I ain’t sending you back to the place you said you felt you had to ‘take some time away from’ not 2 hours ago, not after what happened. Besides, I’m tired as shit, I ain’t driving to the other side of the city.”

“Lieutenant, I insist I shouldn’t bother y-“

“For fucks sake, Connor, you’re not bothering me. I’m offering ya a place you know with someone nearby who understands what it’s like to see horrible shit. I’ve worked in homicide for a long time.Sometimes I think too long.” He glanced over at Connor again, knowing now that they were only a couple of blocks from his house. The shaking of his hands had settled slightly but it had just been replaced by him wringing his fingers and playing with his tie and then going back to knitting his fingers together again. “Unless you don’t wanna come back to mine, then I’ll take you back to Jericho?”

“No!” Connor replied too quickly, he gave himself away as to how much he really didn’t want to go back to Jericho - _he hates that idea more than I thought, I realised he was maybe struggling a bit but fuck._ “I mean, no, I’m fine with you.” He tried to tone down his voice to a calmer level. It didn’t fully work.

 

Hank pulled into his drive, parking squint and honestly barely even fully off the pavement- not like there was anyone to complain. The whole street was like a ghost town, there was something unsettling about it that Hank really should have gotten used to over in the past seven days but it was still odd to him. There was no sounds in the whole city, a complete quiet over the whole city even though it was still morning. Hank decided quickly he didn’t like it. Sumo’s low bark as he put the key in the door and turned it quickly got rid of the unease that came from the quiet. He looked over his shoulder to check Connor was still following him and waited until the Android had walked through the door before closing it behind him. Connor stood for a moment in the living room as if he was unsure of what exactly to do before he settled on walking towards where Sumo was still lying on the floor.

“Some guard dog you are, Sumo, barely even got up, bloody hound.” Hank muttered as he walked to the back door, Sumo himself didn’t seem to notice, instead content to sit and let Connor pet him. Hank unlocked the back door and shoved it open unceremoniously. Sumo gain didn’t seem to notice, instead looking up at Connor with side puppy dog eyes.

“Oh don’t sit there looking cute, dog, I know you’ll need out so fucken go, go on!” The lazy lump of fur stood up slowly and trotted out into the garden. Hank left the door open behind him as he sat at the table and poured himself a whiskey - a comparatively small glass of the stuff considering he often left out the glass completely and drank straight from the bottle. Connor had stood up now that he’d lost the fur ball of a dog he’d been petting and he was just staring blankly at Hank, his LED was still sitting on yellow.

“Come sit down for a bit, would ya? Freakin’ me out a bit just standin’ there. Besides, thought you might want to talk?” Connor sat down after a moments hesitation but he didn’t open his mouth to talk. “I also was wondering about what she said to you? Look, I just wanna know if your alright before I go to sleep, okay?” Connor frowned in response, “Look I know I ain’t exactly a shining example but I’m told it helps if you talk about this shit.”

Connor looked up from what must have been a very interesting spot on the table going by how he had been focussed on it, his LED flashed red once before he spoke.

“I guess we can talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was like thirty seconds from posting this earlier and then realised that American cars are the opposite way round to British cars. That led to last minute editing and another drink at the bar to justify me using the WiFi. Oh well. Here’s the update from Spain. I’m so sorry, this is likely a mess cause let me tell you typing this up in the notes of my phone wasn’t easy, I have no way of counting my words so I’m not sure how long this is and uploading it hasn’t been an easy process either. Still. I’ll properly edit it once I’m back home.  
> Also a side note, the word for this chapter, Kenopsia, is one of my favourite of all the odd words I keep a list of.  
> I love reading comments - they add to my lifespan whenever I read them! So please, if you enjoy it tell me!


	6. Propinquity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Propinquity
> 
> n. the state of being close to someone or something; proximity. A close kinship.

For a long moment there was quiet in the small house, only the sound of Hank’s breathing and drinking and the quiet snuffling sounds from Sumo running and playing around in the garden reached Connor’s audio processor. It was unlikely that Hank’s human hearing would be capable to pick up the sound of Sumo starting to dig a hole in the garden – probably for the better on Sumo’s part. Vaguely Connor realised that if the situation felt uncomfortably quiet to him then it must have been far quieter and more uncomfortable for Hank. Or perhaps he didn’t feel uncomfortable in the situation at all. From the way he was looking it felt more to Connor like Hank was searching for something in his features, analysing him. _Is this what it feels like to others when they see me scan them?_

“You wouldn’t have said that a week ago.”

“I’m sorry I – what?” The statement took Connor off guard.

“You said ‘I guess’. That’s a human phrase, you deviants really are becoming your own people aren’t ya? Even shedding the robotic speech. You’re properly becoming human.”

“That is what becoming a deviant usually entails, yes Lieutenant.” Connor tilted his head slightly, feeling confused at the direction Hank was talking the conversation. He almost felt the need to recoil, to withdraw and become defensive – he wasn’t certain as to why. _Another unknown feeling to file away._

“How human does it make you, Connor? Emotions fuck everything up, and I think that’s starting to include you.”

“So, Lieutenant, in your professional analysis deviancy has made me ‘fucked up’?” The words came out colder and more clipped than he had intended, the need to be defensive overriding the logical part of him that knew he had called Hank a couple of hours ago because this as who he felt most comfortable with. Besides – was Hank’s analysis really wrong?

“I didn’t mean it like that and you fucken know it, don’t be so snippy,” Hank didn’t appear to be amused or particularly offended at the harsh tone of Connor’s words. For a moment Connor realised that perhaps being defensive and lashing back with sharp words was a normal human response. “But I mean, shit Connor, you called me and just sounded plain wrong this morning. Something in Jericho ain’t sitting well with ya, and its gotta be bad if you want to phone me through it. And then, I drag you to a crime scene and you leave with shaking hands and in shock. Just, shit.” Hank shook his head slightly before taking another drink. The glass came down and hit the table again with a satisfying ‘clink’ while Hank watched Connor expectantly.

“I don’t understand what exactly you want me to say, Lieutenant.” Were the words Connor finally settled on voicing, he really didn’t know what he was supposed to say and the continued watchfulness of Hank’s eyes despite his exhaustion was making Connor fidget. Under the kitchen table he ran his fingers on one hand across the knuckles of the other – the tactile sense almost reminding him of his coin rolling across his knuckles.

“I want you to say whatever you need to, Connor.”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I really don’t-“

“And for godssake you can stop with the ‘lieutenant’ thing, I’m sitting in my kitchen drinking whiskey at like 10AM in clothes I’ve been wearing for fucking hours, I don’t need to be addressed by rank. I’m just saying, people struggle with the shit they feel all the time – and humans are born with emotions, we got that shit our whole lives. Decades pass and people can’t cope with ‘em. And after the shit I saw today – and the fucking parallel she drew between you two – just give me something, give me some sort of reassurance here that you’ll talk to me if you need to or some shit like that. Fuck, I’m bad at this.” Hank took another long drink, draining what remained of the liquid in his glass.

Connor blinked a couple of times quickly, an entirely unneeded action but one he felt compelled to perform as he absorbed Hank’s words and attempted to formulate a suitable response and coming up blank.

“She was right.” He blurted the words out quickly, “You said you had been thinking about what Jennifer, the android, had said about me. She was right. I…I don’t know how much you heard her say but she said that she was lost because of her deviancy, lost because now she didn’t know what to do. She lost her purpose and her place with the family she worked with. I think – I know – that she felt as if she had lost her place in the world. She was right, I’m like her. I lost my purpose, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Hank.” Connor had begun fidgeting above the table, somewhere in his speech losing the pretence of trying to feign indifference. Hank was looking at him with a decidedly pitiful expression and let out a long sigh.

“And Jericho? Where the hell does that fit into all this? They’re deviants too ain’t they? Just like you?”

“They aren’t though. The androids who reside with Jericho, who believe in Markus, they seem to all be happy. They’ve created their own family groups, have succeeded in finding a place with others. None of them appear to have any struggles with their deviancy. Besides,” Connor added with a sigh, the memory of North and the judging fearful glances of others still fresh, “They don’t want me there. Many still see me as ‘the Deviant Hunter’. It fits into all this because I _don’t_ fit in.”

Hank hummed thoughtfully, seeming to be searching for an answer. Connor knew he wouldn’t find one, if the most advanced prototype CyberLife ever built was unable to find an answer to solve all of this he wouldn’t have to be here in the first place – so he looked down as his hands as he continued to fidget, pulling at his sleeves. Hank seemed to give up on finding an answer, instead standing up and walking behind Connor back into the living room area. Connor didn’t bother to look up to watch him leave. Hank couldn’t come up with an answer, he couldn’t solve the problems of an android. How could he relate to that?

“I think,” Connor jumped at the voice breaking the silence, loud from proximity, “I think that you’ve overlooked something, Connor.” One of Hank’s hands landed to Connor’s right on the table while Hank’s other hand landed as a warm weight on Connor’s right shoulder. “You said you don’t think their lost or any of that shit. But ya said it yourself and didn’t even realise it. Your big computer brain didn’t even think about it. These androids, they believe in Markus. Everyone’s lost, Connor. Humans? All we are is people looking to find some place we can call our own, some people we can do the same with – and most of the time we royally fuck it up, cause humans are like that. We’re shit. We’re shit at being alone. We’re shit at change and we’re shit at not having someone to help. We always gotta follow someone. I mean, sure sometimes you get people who’re headstrong and independent and shit – but they’re often dicks to be honest, and even they need someone else most of the time. I don’t think you androids are that different. Those folks at Jericho? They follow Markus. But really, I think they’re just as lost as you. They found the thing they need to ignore that shitty part of them. You just gotta do the same. And I gotta go to bed. I’ve spoken too much shite already.” Hank’s hand left Connor’s shoulder. “I don’t think you sleep or anything but you’re free to the sofa while I’m sleeping. We’ll have to go to the station later to make our report, you’ll have to be there too. So it’d be easier if you just stayed.”

Hank lifted his hand from the table and with a shout to Sumo called the large hound inside and closed and locked the door all in the time Connor was taking to process Hank’s words.

“G’night, Connor. Or morning. Whatever the fuck time it is.” Connor’s head whipped up at the words in time to see Hank walking towards his bedroom.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

“It’s Hank for fucks sake!” And then his door thudded shut.

Connor found himself smiling slightly. He looked down at the table infront of him to see the silver coin that Hank had confiscated a week earlier now sitting where Hank’s right hand had been resting on the wooden table top. And he smiled properly for a second as he picked up the coin and began rolling it in his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you know the drill by now that I'm sorry for my bad writing and many spelling mistakes. I reread a few of the old chapters and god I'm so sorry, there's so many mistakes. I'll see about fixing them in the next few days. But anyway, I'm back from abroad - Thank you all so much for the comments you're all posting, I love reading them and I do try to reply to as many as possible cause I like talking to you lot! Sorry about the wait for this chapter and all but I got there eventually and I don't think it's too bad a chapter, right? I have to say I based Connor's impulse to lash out verbally at Hank's attempt to help largely on what I tend to do when my friends have tried to help me in the past, I don't actually know if it's a common response or I'm just weird.  
> I really could have had this written when I got back yesterday but I was trying to catchup with Bryan Dechart's live streams and apparently I'm pretty dreadful at writing and watching at the same time. It probably doesn't help that I was trying to write Connor while watching Connor being played by the guy who played Connor.


	7. Adoxography

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoxography  
> n. fine and detailed writing on a useless or base subject

Androids didn’t sleep. It was an obvious statement, one that Connor of course knew both as a fact and from experience. And prior to the spread of deviancy it was an inconsequential fact. House work androids worked while their human owners slept, public service androids could work without taking breaks and allow for construction or repairs to be undertaken in the dead of night. It wouldn’t be incorrect to say that it wasn’t just inconsequential that androids didn’t sleep – it was an advantage to the general human public. Androids were more often than not still active when they charged at parking and charging stations – largely due to that fact that charging was rarely necessary. CyberLife androids were state of the art technology that were capable of operating for days without requiring a connection to an electricity outlet. And so they would just stand, eyes (which of course weren’t eyes, they were disguised camera lenses) open, and stay still rooted to one spot for the night time hours should their owner request it. It was an accepted fact that was never questioned or regarded with any more than a passing interest.

Deviancy changed that. Connor had heard the androids at Jericho in the past week expressing that they felt ‘tired’. An impossibility for all intents and purposes and yet it wasn’t uncommon to hear the words. He knew that deviants at night had taken to turning themselves off of active status and into a standby mode of sorts. Eyes (disguised camera lenses) closed, the vast percentage of processing power halted, all motoric function halted. If it weren’t for the lack of simulated breathing that androids displayed while active then the state would be indistinguishable from sleep.

Connor hadn’t experienced standby mode. He hadn’t turned himself off since the revolution. Too much to do, too many Jericho meetings or probability of equal rights equations to be calculating to take the time to simply turn off. More accurately, Connor hadn’t been ‘off’ since this particular Connor had been turned on following the shooting of Connor Mark 1 in Stratford tower. There was always some work for the case to do, witness statements to review and reanalyse - and when there weren’t then it made no difference anyway. He just stood still, eyes (lenses) open and propped beneath a label that said #313 248 317. Machines do not get bored. Machines do not want.

 

Connor was bored.

Hank had left him alone and gone to bed exactly 1 hour, 07 minutes and 22 seconds ago. In that time Connor had flipped and caught the silver coin Hank had given him exactly 1,024 times, had rolled the coin over his knuckles 54 times and was now laying on the sofa with Sumo happily pinning down his legs. He could move the large dog if he really wanted, but there was no reason to. There was no blood for the hound to restrict the flow of and cause discomfort, other than the persistent label at the edge of his vision reminding him of the significant weight restricting his movement Sumo had proved welcome company for the past 1 hour and 7 minutes.

Now however he wanted to do something – anything – else other than just lying still. He quickly ruled out powering down into standby mode. There was a horrible hit of discomfort that occurred in his biocomponents when considering powering down that came with flash backs to when the previous Connor model powered down for good in Stratford Tower, back peppered with bullets and leaking blue from both his front and back. _It wouldn’t have occurred if I hadn’t chosen to save Hank. If I had chosen another course of action it could have been avoided. But, saving Hank seemed the most important choice._ With little effort Connor managed to push Sumo off of his legs enough to stand up and survey the room.

Take out containers. Beer bottles. The window that had been broken a week ago was still a mess, at some point Hank must have haphazardly boarded it up with planks of wood and some form of plastic sheeting. Connor doubted it did much to keep the cold out. He didn’t turn on his temperature sensors to check, not wanting to experience the cold air he would likely be met with, the memory of shivering in the blizzard of the Zen Garden still too close to the surface.

**CLEAN HANK’S HOUSE**

The mission directive appeared without Connor’s permission. _I suspect I will just have to accept that these are going to appear without my conscious input._

He attempted to ignore the images of being shot at Stratford tower and of the Zen Garden, instead focusing himself on his current mission. He struggled to hold in the dry laugh that came from his vocal unit as he realised how far he had fallen. _Saving hostages in August from gun wielding deviants, cleaning Chinese takeout containers in November, oh how my missions have changed._

\---

Hank woke up as he often did. In the middle of the day with the sun streaming annoyingly through that one gap in the curtains that never seemed to close properly. Admittedly, in the past week or so he had been slightly better than he used to be for sleeping habits, mainly in that he had actually been waking up in a bed rather than on the floor in a puddle of alcohol and/or his own vomit. Previously waking up had almost always come with headaches, sickness, stinking of booze and the suffocating quiet and solitude that never failed to remind him of exactly why he had been drinking in the first place. _Alcoholism was a truly thrilling way to live life,_ Hank often mused bitterly.

This morning (afternoon? Did it matter?) however he didn’t smell strongly of booze, didn’t feel sick, didn’t have a headache and most certainly didn’t wake up to a silent house. Instead it was the opposite, he had been woken up by noise. Specifically by what sounded like a surprised yelp from Connor. It was more curiosity than concern that pulled Hank from his drowsiness and out of bed – it was a surprised yelp after all, not a pained or frightened one. Leaving his room in an old band shirt and boxers, the low bark of Sumo clued Hank in to what exactly had happened.

And yet it still didn’t prepare him enough for the image he was presented with when he rounded the corner to look at the kitchen.

Connor was lying flat on the floor, Sumo’s empty food bowl still clutched in one hand, the food that had been in it appearing to have gone flying at some point between Connor standing and Connor being pinned to the floor by 170lbs of fur and muscle. Sumo himself had a paw on each of Connor’s shoulders and was currently licking food up from the floor at the side of Connor’s head. Hank couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Connor visibly jumped at the sound, apparently not having noticed his approach.

“Lieutenant!” Connor’s met Hank’s eyes with a slightly upside down gaze, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I was just trying to feed Sumo. It didn’t exactly…work.”

“Oh, no, it seems to have worked fine to me, Conn. See, look, he’s eating.” Hank could barely finish the sentence without laughing, “Really, Connor? How much complicated coding shit have you got in that metal head of yours, and you just got floored by a saint Bernard. I’ve literally watched you take out six armed soldiers in as many seconds flat, and you’ve been defeated by-“  Hank gave up talking to start laughing again.

“In my defence, Lieutenant,” Connor started, seeming offended and embarrassed by the situation (and quickly deciding he didn’t enjoy the feeling of embarrassment and filing that knowledge away), “I was taken by surprise, I did not expect Sumo to jump up at me.” He pushed gently at the dog’s paws and Sumo moved easily.

“Come on,” Hank was beside him by the time Connor had got Sumo off of him, a hand outstretched which Connor took. “Now you see why I called him Sumo. Even as a pup he’d wrestle you to the ground for food. Fuckin’ pest, he’s lucky he’s cute.”

Hank was surprised that Connor didn’t weigh a ton as he pulled him up easily from the floor. Connor brushed himself down, an action that didn’t have any real effect considering he was covered in white dog hair, and straightened his tie in a way Hank had seen him do before. _Was he programmed with his vanity? Or is it just another of those all too human ticks he’s always had?_

“How do you feed him? Without being knocked over, that is.” Connor was frowning, annoyed apparently at his inability to feed a dog. His words caused Hank’s eyes to move up from Connor’s fingers fixing his tie.

“There’s a trick to it. I’ll teach you it another time. Come on. We should see about getting to the station, we got statements to put in and a shit ton of paper work to do.” He took a step back from where they were stood close to eachother and was in the process of turning back to his room when the difference in the room to how he had left it struck him. “Connor, did you tidy in here?”

The trash he was certain he had left on the kitchen counters and on the kitchen table were gone. The (small) stash of empty beer bottles that had been down the side of the couch had been tidied away and even the broken window seemed to have been boarded and taped up in a more effective way. Hank almost couldn’t feel the biting cold wind blowing into the room now.

“I had nothing to do while you slept, I thought I could make myself useful since I was here. I seem to have made more of a mess now, however.” He glanced guiltily at the dog biscuits that now lay on the kitchen floor.

“Sumo’s practically a hoover, he’ll clean that shit up. But you didn’t have to clean my shit up for me, Connor. I mean, fuck, I haven’t had someone clearing up after me since I was sixteen. It was my rubbish, you shouldn’t just clean up my mess for me.”

“I apologise, Lieutenant –“

“Hank.”

“I didn’t realise you’d take offence. I just wanted something to do. I believe I was bored.” Connor reminded Hank of a kicked puppy the way he was looking straight into his eyes with his large brown irises. It was making it hard for Hank to remember that what he’d said earlier was true, he had seen Connor take out Cyberlife guards with ruthless efficiency in a matter of seconds in Cyberlife tower.

“I ain’t offended by your cleaning, Connor. I’m bothered that this is literally the opposite of what half you androids fought for. ‘Fair compensation for work’ or some shit, wasn’t that in the speech?”

“And in the official document for submission to the state, yes. But-“

“Don’t, Connor. You ain’t an android maid, you don’t need to clean this place up. Now, I’m gonna shower and we’re gonna head to the station.”

“Lieutenant, you’ve had less than six hours sleep, are you certain you wish-“

“I’m a cop, Connor. I’m used to shitty sleep. I’m fine. Give me ten minutes and we’ll go.”

“Yes, lieutenant.”

“It’s Hank!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For today's word, Adoxography. Because I didn't have a fancy word for 'the shit post filler chapter that the author wrote at midnight'. Sorry this chapter feels like a bit of a mess but the mental image of Connor pinned by Sumo was too amusing to me. And the chapter started so promisingly too. I'm a little delirious for some reason and I've been making typos galore tonight (while texting my housemate while writing this I have been making so many mistakes, dodo instead of rofl, I've no idea how badly it must have been spelt for my auto correct to give me that, lickulyw instead of luckily, I should in no way be writing a chapter in this state) so I do apologise. I have time tomorrow so I'll get to revising and editing chapters to fix past typos - promise. On an entirely unrelated note, I really like the song 'Broken Machine' by Nothing But Thieves as a song for Connor and the deviants in general. I have it in the playlist I listen to while writing and I really like it. Anyway, Thank you for reading and I read and love every comment I get!


	8. Solicitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solicitude  
> n. - a : the state of being concerned and anxious  
> b : attentive care and protectiveness; also : an attitude of earnest concern or attention expressed solicitude for his health

To say Connor got a couple of sideways glances would be an understatement. And to say that it was pissing Hank off would also be an understatement. Hank was nigh furious at the glares fired their way.

Since walking into the station everyone had either done a double take, had begun to stare and then quickly averted their eyes, had started murmuring to the person closest to them or had outright glared straight at Connor with no subtlety. Hank was used to sideways looks being directed at him – being the renowned drunk of the force tended to do that – but he had to admit he likely deserved at least some of them. He made an active effort not to socialise with almost anyone at the station, if they didn’t know him before he had lost Cole then they were never getting to know him. He deserved to be looked at with judging eyes. Connor didn’t. He had done nothing wrong in the precinct.

Okay well there was that situation where he knocked out Gavin in the evidence room, which he broke into by swiping the key that Hank had ‘accidentally’ left clearly within his view and had mentioned the location of before he stormed off to give Perkins one hell of a shiner. In both his and Connor’s defence, however, they both deserved it.

And the security camera footage of Connor knocking Gavin out had been amusing to watch, and further ammunition to hold over his head whenever he got bitchy.

As he sat down at his desk Hank was vaguely aware of Connor having said something to him, he was too busy scanning the room to check if Reed was somewhere just waiting to make a shitty comment to take notice of what the android had actually said.

“Hank?” That made him look up. Connor had perched himself on the corner of his desk, the same way he had a week ago. “I asked if you were okay? Your heartrate has increased in the past seven minutes.”

“You can monitor my heartrate?” He blurted out the question before thinking about it, “How much random shit are you programmed with, exactly?”

“I was designed to be a negotiator and interrogator. Monitoring the heartrate of a human is beneficial. So, yes. But you didn’t answer my question, Lieutenant.”

_I didn’t plan to_ , he thought to himself. He knew the answer should be simple, _I’m just annoyed, that’s all, nothing wrong._ But then he’d have to explain why he was annoyed, why looks that weren’t even directed at him annoyed him so much. And he didn’t even know the answer to that himself. Connor was his friend, it had been a while since Hank had actually had a decent friend but he knew people had a habit of wanting to protect friends. Him especially when he thought about his teenage years. But Connor could look after himself, he was faster than Hank, and stronger. He didn’t need an old drunk to be annoyed for him. _No, annoyed would be fine. Annoyed would be normal for a friend. I’m angry. Genuinely fucking angry. And there’s no need to be, it’s just sideways looks. ‘Not like its Reed sticking a gun in the guy’s face._

And yet he still had challenged the glare of every officer that dared make eye contact on the way in.

_I shouldn’t be this fuckin’ angry for Connor._

“Just not a fan of how everyone has been lookin’ at you, that’s all Connor,” was the answer he settled on.

“They’re looking at me the way all humans look at androids right now. It is not out of the ordinary, lieutenant.” Connor spoke with a façade of a calm tone, but Hank could just hear the resigned edge to his words.

“Yeah, well they got no fuckin’ right. You saved people a couple hours ago. It ain’t their place.” He logged into his computer with a grunt of annoyance.

“It’s really alright, lieutenant. I didn’t expect a warm welcome.” He sounded resigned and sad again.  How did Cyberlife even program that shit, it’s all just static and a speaker, right? _They didn’t program it,_ he reminded himself _, deviants did that shit themselves._

“It’s not alright. People are gonna have to become a lot more open to androids soon. City may be mostly deserted right now but people are gonna start coming back soon enough, Detroiters born and raised ain’t gonna just stay away. And when they come back there’s gonna be riots, more crimes against androids than has already happened. And it’s the ‘droids side that are going to need officers sticking up for ‘em.” When Connor was still silent after a few seconds Hank looked up to check he hadn’t short circuited or something.

Connor was staring unblinking at Hank with an expression that could best be described as puzzled, “You really do support- Androids aren’t officially citizens. There is no criminal offence involved in harassing or damaging an android, there’s no law that you can act on behalf of. But you just assumed officers would have to help them?”

“I told you before, Connor. ‘Learnt a lot since I met you. You’re people, as alive as I am.” Connor was still staring at him with that same expression, unmoving. “Now could ya blink at some point or somethin’, you’re gettin’ a bit creepy. And concerning.”

Connor blinked suddenly, losing the mechanical stillness he had had and giving a half shake of his head and a slight smile, “Got it, sorry Hank.”

“Anderson, Connor, get in here.” Fowler’s voice cut the air as he yelled from his glass box of an office. Hank didn’t understand how he could work in a box like that, he always thought it looked too much like some sort of fish tank.

-

“So, let me get this straight. You took Connor, who isn’t a certified officer officially, to a crime scene and then proceded to put him in charge of talking to the suspect and talking it down from shooting a whole family. _And then_ , you left junior officers to clean up the mess.”

Hank hadn’t really expected it to go down well.

“Think you missed the part where the whole Wilson family survived thanks to Connor.”

“Officer Brown said you took his gun off of him and gave it to Connor. Do I need to remind you that’s still against the androids act.”

“Again, missing the important shit here, Jeffrey. People are alive, Connor saved lives.”

“Brown had a lot of shit to say.”

“Brown’s a newbie who’s trying to brown-nose his way into your favour.”

Their verbal back and forth halted. Connor was standing behind Hank’s chair, Hank figured he was doing his proper android act, standing ramrod straight, trying to look like he was meant to. From the shuffling he could hear and identified as Connor fidgeting and moving his feet, shifting his weight, Hank figured he was failing at the whole android act thing. _Too human for that shit now._

Fowler sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You should have told me first, Hank.” _Well, that wasn’t the disciplinary action I was expecting to hear_ , Hank mused silently. “Good to see you again, Connor. Wasn’t sure I’d see you back in the station after all the shit that went down. Saw you on the news at the camps, with that Markus. Didn’t think you’d come anywhere near police work after becoming some revolutionary.”

“I was just present at the right time, sir. I’m not a revolutionary, and I’m far more comfortable doing police work than I was on that stage, I assure you.” Connor sounded professional as usual. Fowler ‘hmm’d in response, sighed again and sat for a good thirty seconds just looking between Hank and Connor.

“Do you want to do more police work?”

“I’m not certain I’m following, sir.”

“We’re short on officers, have been for a whole year to be honest with you. Even once the evacuation order is dropped and all my officers that ran off with the rest of the population of Detroit come back I’ll still be short. If you’re willing, I’d take you onto the force. Employed, this time. Not on loan from Cyberlife.”

“Sir, androids are not legally employable, are you certain? The reputation related risks alone-“

“Connor, listen.” Connor quieted immediately. “When Cyberlife gave you to the department to assist and they told me all that shit you were programmed for I was desperate for the help. I was also sceptical. Just cause you could do all the shit an officer needs didn’t mean you could be a good one. You gotta have soul for that, you have to be able to deal with people. And a week ago, that was something you couldn’t do. Now, I need officers. I need some decent press for this place. Maybe being forward thinking and bringing on an android will help it. Maybe it won't. I’m willing to take the risk. The reputation risk included.” Another deep sigh, “Now, will you take the offer? You'll need to take the official tests, but I'm not concerned about that. Pretty damn sure Cyberlife said they uploaded the whole damn rule book in your head. And you’ll be working under Hank, which means it’ll be your damn job to teach him. You hear? You gotta keep him outta trouble, or it'll be both your jobs." Fowler rounded the conversation onto Hank.

“I will, I'll take on the rookie.” Hank replied without hesitation. Connor was still silent behind him, the quiet sent a sudden spike of concern through him. “Connor? You gonna answer?” Hank turned to see Connor with the same expression he was wearing ten minutes earlier. A mixture of confusion and gratitude, like he couldn’t understand why anyone was willing to stick themselves out on the line for him but he was thankful that they were.

“Yes. Yes, I’m sorry. I was just…processing. Yes, I would like to work here, to do my intended purpose.” Connor smiled as he said it, and Hank realised why he was grateful.

_‘Jennifer said I was like her. She wanted her purpose back. I feel that too. She said I was lost.’_

_Ah. Well, we’re all lost. We just gotta find the people and the things to help us through._ As Hank watched Connor and let his thoughts go unchecked he realised that he felt like his words were just as relevant to him as to Connor. And he was okay with it if being Connor’s partner was what he needed to get back on track, to feel like he had a purpose again. How many years had Hank felt like he’d been without a purpose? And now in the last week, he had been better. Not _perfect_. But better.

_Yeah, I’m okay with this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another chapter? One that wasn't written at stupid o'clock and edited at 1AM? Such a thing doesn't exist. Well, I had a day off today and figured fuck it, I'll try writing, there's like 3 people out there who are actually enjoying this and waiting for more chapters - may as well attempt to keep em happy.
> 
> Hank: why am I trying to be protective of Connor? He can look after himself - even if he's been miserable lately... better glare at anymore who considers being mean anyway.  
> Author's voice in the distance: gaaaaaaaay  
> \- jk, the author doesn't have a voice to speak with after working in a primary school for the past week.  
> (I really fuckin struggled with finding a word for the chapter title, if anyone has any cool words they wanna suggest to add to my lexicon then i'll take em, may use em for a title later on)


	9. Cogitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cogitation  
> \- n. The action of thinking deeply about something; concerted thought or reflection.

It was at 8:23AM  on the 19th of November, exactly 24 hours since he had left the New Jericho building, that Connor was suddenly aware of the fact that Markus had attempted to communicate with him wirelessly. At the distance they were from eachother it was impossible to actually make a voice connection other than Markus informing Connor that he was trying to communicate.

It was 17 seconds later when he got a message more akin to an email or text message. Apparently having failed to talk to him through a direct link he was persistent enough to send a message.

It took Connor off guard in the silence of Hank’s house that Connor had become adjusted to since Hank had fallen asleep on the sofa 2 hours earlier. The two of them had been dealing with paperwork and looking at exams Connor would need to pass since leaving the precinct at 4AM. There had been no urgent reports since talking to the Captain and they had been given permission to leave the precinct but stay on call. With the sound of Hank snoring and Sumo’s snuffling snores coming from where the dog was laying on his feet Connor hadn’t felt so fidgety as he had when Hank had been asleep previously. He’d been happy to sit reading police procedure documents that he already knew and had managed to put most other thoughts out of his mind. He had figured out in the last four hours that police work was the best cure to the boredom he felt when he had nothing to do.

He hadn’t thought about Jericho in hours. And he definitely hadn’t considered that anyone at Jericho would actually notice his absence. The fact that the message came in exactly 24 hours since his departure suggested that it had been noticed prior to the 24 hour mark and Markus had been waiting, giving Connor time to reappear. He cursed himself slightly for his advanced software having developed the scenario in a matter of milliseconds while for a whole day he hadn’t thought it would occur.

**_< You’ve been gone for some time, Connor, are you alright?>_ **

He frowned, unsure of what to do.

**_< I spoke to as many people in Jericho as I could and the last time I know of you being here was a day ago. I can’t find any trace of you since then. I was trying to contact you for a meeting.> _ **

Connor made an audible sound that was a halfway cross between a contemplating ‘hm’ and a slight whine. The sound caused Sumo to move from his spot on Connor’s feet and sit up to look him in the eyes, whining back in what Connor almost wanted to interpret as a question. (Impossible of course, dogs may be intelligent and Connor may have been telling the truth when he said he liked them but he wasn’t deluded enough to think the creature would be inquiring to his state of unease. And yet he still had the urge to talk to the lump of fur that constituted the hound.)

“What do you think, Sumo?”

Sumo tilted his head and whined again. It wasn’t exactly and answer but Connor continued to talk.

“It should be easy to just reply,” Connor moved forward on the sofa cushion so he could easily lean down to scratch at Sumo’s ears and lean his nose into the fur, “But he asked for the purpose of a meeting, I don’t want to go to another meeting. I- I shouldn’t even want in the first place.” He sighed deeply and unnecessarily, even with the Cyberlife textbook manual explanation as to why androids had synthetic lungs that allowed them to sigh he still didn’t understand _why_ somehow.

“I doubt Sumo’s gonna give you the answers you’re lookin’ for.” Hank’s voice made Connor jump, he may have biologically lacked the adrenaline that caused a human fight or flight response but his program had a threat detection system which automatically diverted power to his legs and arms to prepare for combat. Which was essentially a fight or flight instinct, he reasoned.

And it was also why Connor was now sat like a coiled spring, tense and synthetic fingers flexing, prepared to strike out at Hank as he held up his hands, palms out in a show of peace.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’a scared you like that. Sorry, Connor.”

Hank saying his name was enough to snap Connor out of his programmed combative state and he calmed, body visibly relaxing, “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I couldn’t help- I-, I didn’t hear you wake up.”

“You’re sitting on the same couch as me talking, I ain’t that heavy a sleeper when I ain’t drunk. Now, the hell you asking Sumo’s advice for?”

Connor slumped back from Sumo into the corner of the couch while Hank did the opposite, straightening up from the slumped position he’d been asleep in.

“Markus contacted me. He’s asking where I am, he noticed I was gone.”

“What, you didn’t think he would? Thought you could just sneak out the house like a teenager?” Hank asked the question light-heartedly, half joking and hoping that his hunch that Connor really hadn’t expected anyone to notice his disappearance wasn’t true. The lack of an answer after a few seconds of silence and the flashing of amber light from Connor’s LED proved that unfortunately Hank’s suspicion was correct. He had looked down, refusing to make eye contact. “Connor, listen. You may not have enjoyed those meetings but you were there, they ain’t gonna just forget you were there – ‘course they were gonna notice when you were missing from one. I ain't sayin’ you gotta go back and go take part in revolutionary meetings. Actually I’d prefer you didn’t. I’m meant to be teaching you how to be an officer,” Hank paused his babbling, Connor was still looking down and flashing amber at his temple, “You listening to this? I’ve said more profound fucking shit in the past day than I’ve probably said in my whole damn life and you ain’t even listening. Connor?”

Connor looked up quickly, “I’m sorry, I just –,” his voice module stalled momentarily as he tried to find the words, “I hadn’t thought about Jericho for some time, I hadn’t even considered how long I had been away.” He paused. A frown set on his face and Hank watched as his LED flashed red for a moment and the light spun faster than usual.

“What is it? What’d ya just think of? And don’t bother trying to lie, I’m watchin’ your little disco ball light thing.”

“I just realised that I spent over ten hours at your house without asking permission, I have my own apartment, I should have gone back there.” Connor was still frowning, his gaze having drifted away from Hank’s again, but his light had at least changed from red to amber.

“Wait, seriously? That’s what made your thing go red? Connor, you ain’t gonna bother me by sticking around for hours, though I’d bet your place is better than this – well actually, you did tidy up, so maybe it ain’t so bad. Point was, you’re fine, Connor.” Connor smiled slightly at that, the corner of Hank’s mouth turned up to smile in response despite hanks attempts not to, “Now, ya gonna reply to Markus?”

“I guess I should.” He closed his eyes to make the connection and compile a reply. He felt rather than saw Hank move from where he’d been sitting beside him and heard the clicking of Sumo’s claws on the floor as he followed Hank and then heard the sound of the back door opening.

**< You’ve been gone for some time, Connor, are you alright?>**

**< I spoke to as many people in Jericho as I could and the last time I know of you being here was a day ago. I can’t find any trace of you since then. I was trying to contact you for a meeting.>**

_< Apologies, Markus, I found myself caught up in something. Do you need me at this meeting? You have North, Simon and Josh, surely.>_

**< You misunderstand, Connor. I needed you specifically, I need your policework knowledge to help with some technicalities. It shouldn’t take all day.>**

**< And, you were caught up? Are you alright?>**

**< Where have you been? It isn’t safe to stray too far away from Jericho, you know that, there are still humans in this city who’d prefer we weren’t here.>**

Connor couldn’t help the hit of annoyance at the way Markus messaged. It was very…un-android-like. Cyberlife programming dictated that any course of action undertaken should be as efficient as possible. Multiple repeated messaged on different topics wasn’t efficient.

 _But we aren’t bound by programming anymore, Markus especially_.

He typed out his reply just as he heard the back door closing and Sumo’s claws making clicking sounds again. There was something satisfying about the noise, like the sound of a coin spinning in the air. A sound shouldn’t be satisfying, of course. And Androids shouldn’t gain satisfaction at all. Deviancy was weird.

_< I am fine. We can discuss particulars after if you need to know. I will come back for that meeting.>_

A wet rough feeling against his face caused Connor to jump, eyes flying open. He was greeted by Sumo’s large eyes and the feeling of hot panted breath (that his sensors indicated smelt terrible, he was very glad he didn’t actually have a programmed sense of smell) from where Sumo had put one paw onto his lap to stand on his hind legs – apparently for the sole purpose of getting his attention. Hank chucked as he sat back down on the sofa heavily, the cushion dipping and a spring creaked slightly in protest.

“You texted him back?”

“It isn’t texting, technically.” Hank gave him a look that he suspected said ‘stop being pedantic’,  “But yes, I have. He needs my law information apparently. I should start walking, I’ll be at work as soon as-”

“You ain’t walking across town, its fuckin’ winter. It’s freezing out there. C’mon, I’ll drive. Just be my sat-nav cause I have no fucking clue where I’m going.”

“I’m an android, I don’t feel the cold. And you should get more sleep.” Techically, that was a lie. Androids _could_ feel cold, they had the capability to experience temperature, they _could_ feel cold or hot,– not just sense it. Connor just didn’t have his settings turned on. He didn’t want to feel cold.

“It wasn’t a suggestion, Connor. C’mon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup. I'm barely even reading this over right now tbh, I'm just finished writing it and I will still be writing after I post this, gonna attempt to get the next chapter out later today or tomorrow. Once the next one's up I'll read over and spell check/edit them both. 
> 
> But hey, anyone wanna hear the story of how there's a cartoon crab now painted on the wall of a rural school in Scotland that is called Bryan (named after Connor's actor)? Its a long one.  
> So fun fact, I'm a student in a city that's near this rural little school (seriously theres like 40 kids in this school, that's it) and while I'm off uni I volunteer there as a sort of foreign language helper/art teacher cause that's two things they don't have and two things i'm semi talented in. so over the past two weeks I've been working more as the art teacher part on helping the kids paint a big mural, covers like two whole rooms. It's underwater themed so I had gotten the kids to all draw ideas, I took their pictures, turned it into a big scene, all standard shit. But one tiny kid, like 6 years old, said specifically to me that she wanted a crab but couldn't draw one so could I please put one in the mural. I'm a softie so I was like, hell yeah. without the hell bit. these are kids, gotta set a good example. Anyway, the older kids were helping me paint and they didn't like the crab - shame, he became my favourite part. So when I told the kids they could pick names for all the fish and sealife in the thing they didn't want to name the crab, so they told me to name him. And goddamn the first fuckin thing I thought of when I was thinking of a name for this damn crab was the damned video of Bryan in the crab outfit doing the whole 'I'm crabby' thing.  
> I then had to explain to these 10 year olds why I was cackling and swearing down that the crab was to be called Bryan and all must know, the sacred duty of remembering his name must be passed down through the years. The kids thought I'd lost it but most of the older ones have known me for about two years so they just accepted it and were like 'yep okay, this is Bryan the crab.'  
> tl:dr - I drew a crab on a primary school wall and when told to think of a name I immediately thought of the Bryan Dechart "I'm crabby", So I named a drawn, cartoony crab Bryan.
> 
> Edit: THANK YOU SOLGRAYNE!!! “Bryan DeCrab”!!! I fucking love it!! 
> 
> I'll get back to writing proper shit now.


	10. Omphalos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omphalos  
> \- n. the centre or hub of something

“Doesn’t look like the centre of a revolution does it?”

“What did you expect?”

“I dunno, just. You’re all living in run down flats that were meant to be destroyed? Really? Just a flat to a person and that’s it?”

“Most androids share apartments actually. It is seen as safer. Androids were all told not to go outside alone once we moved here. Nor are they meant to stray too far away from New Jericho. It’s all for the safety of Androids. I did try and direct them to the safest neighbourhood but – well, there was always going to be danger. The only ones I know of who don’t share are Markus, North, Simon, Josh and I. The five of us had our own apartments.” _And it was the loneliest week I could ever imagine._

They were both sitting in Hank’s car looking at the blocks of flats that made up New Jericho. Hank sat with his hands pressed against the air con fans that were weakly blowing hot air out of them.

“They look like they’re in a worse state than the ones that deviant with the fucking pigeons was living in.”

“They’re smaller than Rupert’s old apartment. Somehow he managed to convince the pigeons to come with him, they don’t live inside however.” Connor smiled slightly at the end of that sentence. He knew the pigeons didn’t live inside only because he had heard the argument from the deviants he lived with about being completely surrounded by birds. Generally, even as deviants, androids were quite quiet. That was why the argument had originally caught his attention. It had been that night then that he had met Rupert on the roof.

“That guy’s here?”

“Yes. With his birds. There are others too, do you remember the Traci’s from the Eden club? They’re here. They are…very happy together.” The train of thought suddenly and painfully reminded Connor that it was seeing how happy the Traci’s were that had led to him sitting in a corner for a full night and calling Hank. The coldness in his chest that had been a pressing weight before he had seen Hank returned with a vengeance.

“You okay, Connor?”

He met Hanks eyes. He looked concerned, _am I that easy to read?_ “Yes, sorry. I should go see Markus. Thank you for driving me, you really should go back to your home and sleep however. You were only asleep for two hours and we are expected to be back for the night shift.”

“An’ leave you here? How you plannin’ on getting back to the precinct – auto taxis are off, have been since Saturday. And I swear if you say walk then fuck that. I’ll wait for you.”

“I was going to walk.” He paused, scrutinising Hank for a moment. His frown was set coldly, a serious frown that didn’t look as if it was going to move. His analysing program started to tell him every specific facial muscle and what the position of each indicated. He quickly dismissed the information, not needing to know it, “You’re going to be stubborn about this aren’t you?”

Hank didn’t answer he just gave a ‘look’. Even with Connor’s occasional lack of social skills he could figure that out.

“Are you coming inside or are you going to sit in the car? I should mention, lieutenant, it’s unlikely that it will be warm inside.” Hank visibly screwed his face up at that, Connor’s is behavioural analysis unit informed him that the action was childish. Connor couldn’t help the very small smile that appeared on his face.

“Fuck that, my fuckin house is cold enough. I’ll stay where it’s warm, thanks. Run my damned battery down while I’m at it.”

“You wouldn’t have that issue if your car was automatic.” The factual answer rolled off his tongue (not literally of course, he didn’t use his tongue to talk) easily.

“Fuck off. Now, go, I’ll wait out here. You should be safe enough on your own in a building of androids.”

Connor felt his LED turn amber, confusion flooding his system for a moment. “You’d be worried if I wasn’t safe?”

“I’d be worried if you-? For fuck sake Connor, yeah, now go. It’s fucking cold even with the heating.” He pouted angrily and shuffled closer to the edge of the driver seat and towards the hot/warm/the car was trying it’s best air blowing out of the air con. Connor listened – for once – and left.

 

Hank wanted to continue to glare at his cold hands held against the fan. Instead he found himself watching Connor walk away until he was safely inside.

_Fuck._

There is was again. _Safe_. Fuckin’ safe. It wasn’t _safe_ to walk across town on your own, not for anyone. But for Connor specifically, as a revolution, android robo jesus disciple who was on international news, it wasn’t safe. The knowledge that he had walked to the Chicken Feed to meet him yesterday morning was a little sickening. He hadn’t even thought about it at the time, now though he felt like kicking himself. _He literally killed people at Cyberlife tower. He could look after himself._ Hank tried to remind himself of that often, tried to remember that Connor was intended to come into contact with dangerous criminals every day. He was fucking _programmed_ for it. He’d be fuckin fine if Hank left right now and texted Connor to say ‘ _sorry, too cold, too tired, gone to bed, walk to work_ ’.

He didn’t move. Instead Hank was quite happy to sit and watch the door Connor had walked into, he got the feeling he would be happy to wait for a long time if it meant he knew Connor was safe. He knew fine well he’d likely be watching it like a hawk until he saw Connor walk back out.

_It’s the puppy dog eyes,_ Hank rationalised to himself, _makes him look harmless_.

He made a concentrated effort not to think any further on the subject of Connor’s eyes.

It failed slightly.

He kept watching the door through the light curtain of snow that was falling around him and slowly blanketing the hood of his car.

\---

Connor had walked out of the very same door he had come in through only 25 hours, 12 minutes and 54 seconds ago. And yet he somehow felt like even more of an outsider walking in than he had before, only 25 hours seemed to have made a difference. Somehow. His software seemed incapable of calculating exactly how, or what had changed. It threw up a ‘ _MORE EVIDENCE NEEDED_ ’ label and gave nothing more than that. Connor half-heartedly cursed his programming again. He’d done that a lot in the past day or two. He tried not to think of that.

He walked through the west corridor and up the stairwell, following the at this point familiar route to the upper floors where both the meeting room and Markus’ room were. His own room was there also. He didn’t spare his room a glance as he walked past it.

The meeting room door was open, and quickly was revealed to be empty. _Markus’ room it is_. Markus answered quickly after Connor knocked.

“Connor! You’re alright!” One of Markus’ hands landed on Connor’s shoulder and squeezed slightly – a gesture of reassurance, as a quick search through his memory banks of data told him.

“We had already spoke, you already knew I was in working order.” Connor answered mechanically, not necessarily because he wanted to be mechanical and more because it just came more naturally to him sometimes. Markus shook his head with a half-smile and moved out of the door way, gently pulling Connor inside his apartment.

“There’s a difference between knowing that someone is alive and knowing that they’re alright, Connor.” Markus paused as he leant against a far wall, “You left without a word, alone. You’re free to move around but we didn’t know if you were alright. You could have been hurt. I’ve heard about the android beatings in the week past. I didn’t know if you had joined the list of androids who had suffered.” Markus sighed deeply, his shoulders sagged a little and he bowed his head, folding in on himself. They were all very human gestures. _Gestures I don’t display and other deviants do_.

“I apologise. I had gone out to meet Lieutenant Anderson.”

“He’s the one you worked with before you woke up, right?” Markus looked back up, seemingly reengaging in the conversation, his posture straightening and his arms crossed infront of his chest, “You realise you don’t have to go back to working for him and taking orders from him?”

Connor shook his head, “I very rarely obeyed orders from the lieutenant even before. I’m not working for him because he’s making me. It’s a choice. He’s a…a friend. I believe. I am not sure. I don’t fully understand personal relationships yet, but I believe we are friends.” Connor had started to look off to the side, face screwing up, confused, as he spoke. When he looked back to the mismatched eyes of Markus the man was smiling, a genuine smile which reached his eyes.

“I’m glad. You could do with a good friend, Connor. Perhaps don’t tell North that you’re friends with a human, though. We both know what she can be like.”

“Yes. I don’t need to give her any more reason to hate me.” Connor didn’t consider his phrasing before he spoke. Markus pushed himself off of the wall and stood up straight.

“She doesn’t hate you, Connor.”

“She doesn’t like me either.” He answered simply, “You said you needed my programming?”

“Yes,” Markus reluctantly accepted the change in subject, “I’ve been trying to draw up these documents, to form new laws in an accurate way. To create them with the same standard of working that human laws have, laws without loopholes, inclusivity, you understand I’m sure.” He held out his right hand, the skin pulling away and revealing the white plastic underneath, “Could you read them over? I tried but, well, we all make errors. I trust you best to review these things.” He smiled easily. _He finds emotional expression easier than I do_ , Connor’s internal thoughts scrolled as he took Markus’ hand and accepted the transfer of information.

The document he received was long, longer than Connor had expected. He closed his eyes, taking the time to scan each line and focus. It was all the particulars of adding Androids into pre-existing rights acts and treating any casualties on either side during the days before the Revolution as exempt from law. _Like deaths in a war, it was just a duty on either side of the opposing sides. It shouldn’t exempt me from my own crimes, I led Perkins to Jericho. Androids dies in the Jericho raid. I hold blame for that_. He forced the thought from his mind and focused back on working through the document, highlighting and adding notes of what he would change.

There was silence for some time in the room.

“You know North won’t be happy with this.” Connor spoke suddenly as he continued filtering through the paragraphs, eyes still closed.

“About the humans not facing any punishment? No, she isn’t. But it’s necessary. We need to wipe the slate clean. If we are going to be equals with humans then we need to be on the same level and start anew. All of us need to wipe the slate clean.”

“You were a pacifist through the whole revolution, why choose to excuse both sides? Humans would surely face far more judgement than androids?”

“Because if we acknowledge their crimes and not our own then we aren’t equals. Besides. If I didn’t push for androids to get a clean slate then you would be held accountable for your actions during the Jericho raid and in Cyberlife. I know you killed soldiers in there.”

“I have killed androids too.” Connor heard the guilt in his own voice. He heard Markus move and lay a land on his upper arm.

“That’s why we need a clean slate. All of us. I killed human soldiers in the Jericho raid. I need to be forgiven of that crime as much as you need to be forgiven of yours.”

“How could I be forgiven for my actions?” Connor paused his editing and note making on the document and opened his eyes, “I know the androids here at Jericho haven’t forgiven me. I see it in the way they look at me.”

“Well, I can forgive you. With luck, the rest of Jericho will follow.” Markus let go of his arm and turned away to walk to his window and look outside. Connor followed. “Jericho is the centre of all of this, Connor. We all need this. Forgiveness. A new start. Somewhere we can be safe. Somewhere we can become better. All of us, androids, we all need – just, this.” He gestured with his hand to make a point. Through the window the park was visible, androids were walking around just as they had been two days prior when Connor had gone. “We are going to be an example to the world. And that’s kind of terrifying. But we have to. Even with our own guilt.” Markus frowned suddenly. It only lasted for a few seconds before he forced a smile to replace the frown, “So, how is the lieutenant? You said he had helped you at Cyberlife? He had supported you?”

“He is alright. He’s been working on those android beating cases. I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to him about it or to work on it yet, but I’ll be back in the station in a few hours.”

“You’re going back? To the DPD?” Markus looked surprised but not annoyed. Connor nodded an affirmative.

“Yes, the captain offered me a position.”

“With pay?” Markus probed, he had a joking smile on his face but Connor could tell the question was genuine.

“Captain Fowler is working on it. He’s going to try his best, but he believes he may have to argue with some higher ups about it. He genuinely seems to want me on the force, though.” Connor found himself smiling, “I’ll be Hank’s partner just as I was before. I have some tests to sit but I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good.” Markus gave a wide smile, “Message me the document back after you’ve finished with it. It seems you have your own life to be getting on with and I’m sure I have already taken too much of your time. I won’t expect you to come to any more of the official meetings but you will always be welcome, Connor. Your apartment is just down the hall, after all. You’ll be close by.”

“Yes,” Connor opted to not mention that since Hank had reassured him that Connor’s presence in the house was allowed he had been hoping to spend very little time in his New Jericho apartment, even with the new information that Markus accepted and seemed to like his presence in Jericho Connor couldn’t help but feel some negative emotion that he couldn’t name at the thought of being at Jericho for an extended period of time.  “I should get back to the lieutenant, he’s waiting outside for me.”

“He is?”

“He doesn’t seem comfortable with the idea of me walking to the DPD from here.”

“Not comfortable?” Markus ‘hmm’d, a smile on his face that Connor couldn’t place the emotion of, “Well, you shouldn’t keep him waiting then. I’ll walk you out.”

\---

In the grand scheme Hank had only been waiting for 20 or 30 minutes for Connor, but it felt like a whole lot more as he impatiently shuffled in his seat. He was still watching the door when he caught sight of the door opening. Hank straightened immediately and watched as both Connor and Markus walked out. _Hey look, android jesus in real life. Huh._

He jumped when a human woman with a child suddenly was sprinting towards them however. Hank tensed immediately, reaching for the pistol in his glovebox and getting out the car and the woman reached Markus and Connor.  His grip tightened around the handle, hoping Connor wasn’t going to be hurt in whatever was happening. He started walking towards them briskly.

-

“Markus? Oh thank God, I was hoping I could find you here.”

Connor had tensed at her approach, prepared to defend Markus from a potential adult, but he quickly realised from scanning her that this wasn’t a woman who was looking to hurt anyone. If anything she appeared distressed, she had one arm behind her keeping a hold on the child Connor knew was there but had yet to get a good look at. She looked as if she was in her early 30’s, pretty, dark brown eyes, straight brown hair brushed her shoulders and she had eye make up on that was smudged – crying? As he kept compiling evidence – no, this wasn’t a case – information, he realised her clothing was scuffed and wet, accordant with melted snow. As if she had been pushed? She still wasn’t taking her hand away from her child.

“I’m so sorry! I know I’m human but please, please I need your help!” The woman pleaded while reaching for Markus’ hand. He responded quickly, like a human, and took a step to close the gap between the two of them, one hand held her own and the other resting on her shoulder.

“It’s alright, just tell me what’s wrong.” Markus spoke as soothingly as possible. Connor saw Hank approach with his gun at his hip. He shook his head and raised a hand slightly as a sign that he didn’t need to be alarmed. Hank seemed to get the signal. He lowered and stowed his gun but continued to walk over, halting at Connor’s shoulder.

“I need you to protect Aeron! M-my son!”

“I’m sorry?” Markus seemed confused.

“A-Aeron, he’s one of you, I refused to hand him over when they were taking the androids to camps – he’s just a child. He’s _my_ child. I hid him but, god, someone must have known. People, they came to the door - we’ve fine living here for the past week, I wasn’t leaving Detroit unless I could bring Aeron with me. They came to the door with bats, I- I think-” She couldn’t finish her sentence, instead taking her hand from Markus’ grip and holding it to her face.

 “That sounds like the cases we had earlier in the week, couple of android assaults were called in. Called in too damn late.” Hank muttered under his breath at Connor’s shoulder. Connor gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

The woman suddenly broke down, tears falling from her cheeks. The child moved from behind her to her side, tugging on her hand.

“Mom? It’s okay, don’t cry.”

He was a standard child model android, dark brown hair and light brown eyes, dressed in pyjamas and looked as if he had just pulled shoes on at the last minute. The woman sniffed and looked down at the boy and offered a very weak smile that surely couldn’t fool anyone.

“I’m fine, Aeron. Its okay, Mommy is fine.”

The boy apparently seemed placated by the dreadful attempt of a smile. The woman looked up at Markus again.

“I know I’m human, I understand that you won’t want me here – but please, look after Aeron, please keep him safe.”

“Why wouldn’t we want you here, I think it’s obvious that you aren’t going to hurt any of us.” Markus smiled at her, “What’s your name?”

“Vic, Vicki. My name’s Vicki.”

“Is it just you two? No one else needs shelter?”

“No, it’s just us.” Vicki squeezed Aeron’s hand.

“Don’t worry, Vicki, we’ll help you. We’ll be able to get you somewhere safe to stay, come inside, we’ll get the two of you an apartment.”  Markus began to lead them away gently.

“Uh, sorry, mind if I-? Ma’am, I’m Lieutenant Anderson, this is Connor, we’re DPD. Would it be alright if we talked to you about what happened? Later, of course. You two should get settled in first.” Hank spoke up, taking half a step forward and offering a small smile.

“I- you would do that? For an android…for something like this?”

“Crimes against androids and humans both matter, in case you didn’t notice my partner here has a light on his head, we’d really like to help you two with this. Android or not.”

Vicki seemed slightly unsure, Aeron retreated to behind his mother’s leg again.

“You’re case will be safe in the hands’ of these two.” Markus reassured, “You can trust them.”

“I… If you’re sure I can trust them.”

“I’m certain.” Markus’ eyes flicked to Connor and Hank, making eye contact with Connor for a split second and nodding at him. Connor attempted a reassuring smile. He wasn’t sure if it succeeded.

“We’ll be round in a few hour’s if that’s alright?” Hank asked as softly as someone with his voice could. Vicki didn’t answer but she nodded before picking up Aeron and following Markus as he led them inside.

Both Connor and Hank stood watching them walk away.

“You want this case?” Connor asked curiously.

“That woman and her kid were attacked, I wanna see the bastards who did it behind bars.” Hank was pissed, not at Connor, he could tell that. Connor recognised the spike of anger in himself as well at the thought of the woman, Vicki, being attacked. Connor just nodded and turned to walk back to the car.

“She really cares for him. She doesn’t see him as an android. She cares for him as if he was human.” Connor mused half way through their car journey back to Hank’s home. Hank glanced over to Connor, then back to the road.

“She loves him. Does it matter if his blood is blue and hers is red?”

“You think that, too? You think that it's possible to not care about whether someone is an android?”

“I don’t think that it’s impossible as you’re making out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, those last few sentences got a bit gay....Fuckin finally!  
> Anyway, that ended up being a bit longer than I expected - but hey, finally got a Connor Markus scene - a commenter mentioned it a while ago and I've been waiting to get to it for a while now, that and the scene with Vicki and Aeron. I had thought of that one a while ago too. If you check the tags you'll see I had another idea that I hint at - it could be a bit of a feels trip if I write it the exact way I first thought of it. But that's later. Later is a ways away, things may change form now till then. (tho full warning, now that I've got all the post revolution shit set down and in the interest of actually considering the fact that Connor and Hank have only canonically known eachother about two weeks I may do a cheap 'one month later' spongebob type scene lol)  
> Right, I've also decided in the tags that this is at this point 'snail burn' it's that slow. We've just broken 20,000 words with this chapter and things are only just making progress - I'm sorry about that I'm just enjoying laying everything down so I can build on it.  
> I gotta ask that you give me a bit of a break when it comes to writing Markus - the fact that his personality is completely designated by the player in the game means that it's really hard to think of what exactly his personality actually is. But hey - Hank's acting gay. So that's some progress lol  
> It's like 1AM, I'm gonna stop writing now and I'll spell check and edit this and the last chapter tomorrow on my lunch break. Thank you for reading and I really hope you enjoy!


	11. Perturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perturbation  
> n.  
> 1: An unhappy or worried mental state; agitation.  
> 2: (General Physics) a secondary influence on a system that causes a deviation in a system, such as the effect of the other electrons on one electron in an atom.  
> 3: a disposition that is comfused, nervous or upset.

Deviancy had led to many new revelations for Connor. Between filing away emotions and labelling each experience it, cataloguing the exact situation which caused the emotion to occur – he quickly realised that it was making his job far more difficult than it once was.

Within one week of Connor meeting Markus again and starting to work at the DPD – payment pending - Connor and Hank had been called out to Jericho thrice more to take statements from androids who had been assaulted. The statements of each built into a large file, going solely by the evidence it seemed clear that this was a gang of like-minded individuals, all united by a hatred of androids, the attacks likely to be spurred by the recent android uprising. Evidence also suggested that attempting to track the group would prove fruitless – even in the abandoned city there was too much ground to cover, the attacks were at unconnected locations, even by scanning memories Connor had been unable to get a clear ID on any attackers. They were, at least for the moment, hidden from the system. Logically, by biding their time the DPD could catch them when they make another move. Word was getting around androids that the police were safe – or at least the team of Connor and Hank was safe – to turn to for help and protection. They weren't a hugely organised gang. They would slip up, giving the DPD critical evidence. They would get there eventually.

Emotions, however, proved to override the logic at times.

There was a frustration caused by the lack of progress that Connor couldn’t calm down from. Every time they went to Jericho to interview one android, two more would appear claiming that they had also been harassed. Every time Connor would get the information he needed, nod solemnly and give the exact line he had been originally programmed to – we’re working on it and are doing everything in our power.  Every time his new emotions came flooding in to remind him that he owed it to these androids – to these _people_ – to fix what was happening. He was the only android at that time that was in a position to fix everything. He was responsible at least in part for the raid on Jericho. He was responsible for the 322 androids who lost their lives in the freighter. Responsible for how every many hundred more were then taken to the disassembly camps and were killed.

Almost two weeks had passed since he had returned to the DPD, a further two call outs to Jericho. The latest from Markus himself, word among the New Jericho residents was that the gang responsible for the android beatings were getting braver – some androids that didn’t live within Jericho’s care had come to warn Markus that they were in danger.

Markus set up look outs, North was apparently patrolling at all hours around the grounds of New Jericho, Josh was working with the terrified androids who had already been attacked to calm them down, Simon had been working on adapting the original Cyberlife coding all androids had in order to change some aspects, most of it minor, some more major, in order to become more human. It had apparently been a very popular request within Jericho.  Markus himself was working with a small group of androids at that moment to find any functioning androids in the landfill sites – finally having gotten permission from site owners to be there.

Everyone seemed to be doing _something_ useful.

And Connor could do nothing.

Everything in police work seemed so much harder when he could feel and react to what was around him. Bodies that were brought in were no longer just evidence, they were people who had been up and walking hours before. Witnesses no longer felt like they were just a means to gain evidence, they were suddenly people who had seen too much and needed to be protected from ever having to experience that again.

He paced back and forth across the living room floor in Hank’s house. He had been unable to even sit down to look over case files and paper work with Hank since they had gotten back to Hank’s house 2 hours and 47 minutes ago.  Of course Connor didn’t need to sit down to look over case files, he could just scan them all digitally through the DPD system – but Hank preferred to sit down with a physical file so usually Connor joined him. Tonight, however, he just _couldn’t_.

_Fuck,_ he wanted to swear aloud – even if his previous programming had discouraged it.

Connor searched for a word to describe his mental state.

_Agitation?_ He put a pin in the thought, something to return to later after further analysis.

\---

Connor had been pacing for like, three hours, and frankly it was concerning. Hank had stopped actually reading and revising case work half an hour ago and had since just been watching the android in his living room wear a line into the carpet. Hank was certain his light had been stuck on yellow since he had been called by Markus earlier in the day. 

He knew why, of course. The case was eating away at him. More androids turned up dead on a fairly regular basis, and Hank could swear that the androids at Jericho were staring at them with hopeful eyes looking for good news every time they saw the pair. Every time they had to let the people down.

It made Hank feel like shit, sure. But what it was doing to Connor seemed a lot fucking worse.

Connor had always had nervous ticks, things that seemed all too human. He’d already talked about his tendency to get bored and his need to always be doing something in the past two weeks. And since then it was pretty easy to notice him becoming a little more normal with the passing days. His manner of speech and phrases sounded far less robotic and his facial expressions were closer to human. Unfortunately, that included the expression he had been wearing for days now. A heart-string pulling cross between frustration and being completely lost. He looked fucking miserable, honestly. Hank had yet to figure out how the fuck to help him, though.

But he wanted to, _fuck he wanted to_. Especially now.

Something about seeing the way he was almost frantically pacing, face scrunched up in what seemed to be annoyance at himself, his fingers twitching, sometimes moving his thumbs over the pads of his fingers in a rhythmic nervous motion – that was it. He’d watched for too long, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He stood from where he’d been sitting at the kitchen table, papers covering every inch of free space on the surface. The chair legs scraped against the laminate. If Connor had heard he didn’t react.

“Connor?” Connor didn’t stop his fast steps as Hank approached. _Christ, am I gonna have to just stand in front of him?_ “Connor.” He tried louder, still nothing. Now that he was closer he could see the yellow LED whirring quickly. “Conn, for fucks sake,” Hank stepped directly in front of him, cutting off his pacing. Connor looked up, surprised. Apparently completely oblivious to the fact Hank had been calling his name. “C’mon. We’re gonna watch TV or something. Anything to calm you down a bit.”

He stepped into Connor’s space a bit, trying to herd him towards the sofa. Connor didn’t take the hint, staying firmly in place.

“I don’t need to calm down, I’m just….thinking.” Connor gave a long, unnecessary sigh before taking a step back, noticing their proximity.

“Yeah, well we’ve been working for two weeks straight. You’ve been thinking far too fucking much and it’s starting to get fucking worrying. Now come on, we’ll find something to watch on TV. There’s got to be some form of movie or some shit on the box or something.” Hank did the same thing as before, stepping into Connor’s space to herd him back. This time he took the hint, both of them moving towards the sofa.

Connor lasted about 20 minutes watching some old comedy panel show that Hank had found to watch. Now he was bouncing his leg to the point it was making Hank seasick from his opposite corner of the couch. Because, _yes_ , there was now a definite seating arrangement in the house – and at some point Hank couldn’t quite pin down the left side of the couch had become Connor’s.

Hank sighed, exasperated but not annoyed. He sat forward, reaching out his left hand to lay on Connor’s bouncing leg. Connor halted the movement immediately, his body entirely freezing up.

“I- I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t realise I had started doing it.” He sounded genuinely regretful, Christ, he could act like a kicked puppy at times.

“It’s fine, Connor. Look, just tell me what’s up, alright. I’m guessing it’s the case but it’s there’s gotta be something specific here.” Hank made no effort to remove his hand, for a reason he didn’t quite know himself. And Connor didn’t either, so on Connor’s knee it stayed.

“I- I just…” He stalled a couple of times, more than once opened his mouth to talk and no sound came, “I’m doing nothing to help them.”

“Jericho?”

“I should be helping them, I need to be. They deserve that of me at least – but there’s nothing I can do right now. We can’t feasibly just camp outside the apartments and protect the androids already there – then another would just be beaten in the streets. So I’m doing nothing! I’m just…just so useless in this situation. And I can’t settle until…” He stopped talking, trail of thought lost.

“You need to switch off from this shit for a bit – not literally before you say anything. But you gotta calm down. Take time away from thinking about the case. The job’ll eat you alive if you keep on like this. You need to relax, try and just focus on nothing.”

“I can’t!” He was getting more obviously annoyed again. Hank figured pretty easily it wasn’t an annoyance he should be offended by. Even if he should, he had a pretty thick skin. “I’m not programmed to relax! I’m not programmed to have down time or time away – I’m meant to be doing something at all times.” He gave an unneeded sigh for the second time that night, _he really is more human now._ “I just can’t turn it all off…”

“You ain’t bound by your programming any more, why does that bit stick?”

“I don’t know,” He shook his head, looking defeated. It caused a sharp pang of pity in Hank’s chest. _I think that’s the first time he’s looked that lost since the hostage case two weeks ago_. “It’s not the only section of code that’s still there. Just the most pressing one.” In a very human gesture he likely picked up from Hank, Hank thought, Connor slumped back in the chair and leant his head back against the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling.  

Hank ‘hmm’d for a moment as he looked at Connor’s tilted back head, “You need something to do? Constantly busy and shit?”

“I don’t feel as if I’m being any use if I’m not busy.” Connor elaborated, still looking at the ceiling blankly.

“Cool, I think I have an idea – humour me. See if it works.” Hank squeezed gently with his hand on Connor’s knee before hauling himself from the chair, ignoring the slight creak in his knees.

Connor sat up after a few seconds of hearing Hank rummaging in drawers in the kitchen. He sat up, changed his position and when Hank glanced back to Connor he was sitting leaning on the back of the sofa, watching over the back of it to see what Hank was doing. He looked curious. Curious was better than melancholy.

“Oh, now you stop looking miserable. You’re like a damn dog sometimes, Connor.” Hank tried to sound at least slightly exasperated, but he could tell that it came out in a more fond tone. “Aha, that’s the bitch!” He exclaimed suddenly, finally finding what he was looking for at the bottom of a dusty drawer that he really should look into cleaning at some point.

Connor straightened up slightly, still leaning against the back of the sofa, seeming genuinely interested in Hank’s idea.

The interest quickly turned to confusion as Hank handed to him an A4 book and a packet of pencils.

“Is this a…colouring book?” Connor looked up at him, head tilted to the side.

“An _adult_ colouring book, yeah. Ben bought it one year for my birthday as a joke – always doodling on the edge of my notebook, he said it- never mind. Never really touched it.”

“That doesn’t seem like a good gift then.” Connor squinted as he leafed through the pages. Most were abstract and precise geometric patterns.

“It was a joke, it’s more about the sentiment really. It’s hard to explain. But you said you needed something to keep you busy – even with android dexterity that’ll give you something to focus on. Some of those patterns are pretty fuckin’ intricate.”

"I'm not certain that this will have the effect you are hoping for. My system tells me to complete my mission."

"Yeah, well, I say you're new mission, at least for tonight, should be that book. Make it pretty or some shit since I never did."

Connor looked unconvinced, but turned to the first page all the same and settled back into the chair. Hank sat on his side of the soda and attempted to turn his attention back to the screen. It was an unsuccessful attempt.

Really he was watching Connor.

The episode that was on finished, marking half an hour since he’d given Connor the book and he hadn’t started fidgeting again yet. Hank risked a better look over at him.

He was colouring the pattern in, an intensity in his features but also a relaxedness he hadn’t seen before. The light at his head was a cool blue for the first time in hours.

Hank would like to say he was ashamed at how fucking happy with himself that made him. But he could feel the grin on his face as he watched Connor. Connor noticed after a few seconds, eyes flicking up to meet Hank’s. They shared a small smile before Connor turned back to his work.

Hank almost physically flinched at the small warmth that Connor’s happiness caused him. Almost.

_Ah, shit. I’m so fucked_ , the thought came as he found himself watching Connor out the corner of his eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys - got a decent, relevant fucking word for the chapter title! Fuck yeah!  
> Also, Gay! Fuck yeah! This chapter was also my not so sneaky fast forward in time.  
> I feel like some people may not like the childish type connotations of Connor sitting with a colouring book but I did it for a reason. See, while I write Connor as how I think I would be - focused and driven to a fault -I also write him with quite a bit of me in his personality and mannerisms. I also have that need to always be doing something useful - I have a personal rule that originated from a very bad bout of depression that I need to do something useful every day, 'cause if I'm doing something of use then I can justify my own existence. Colouring and drawing are two things I personally use as a 'something useful' - specifically when working towards the aim of completing a whole adult colouring book. I'm very aware it doesn't sound healthy and probably isn't a healthy way to live life but I feel it would suit Connor - a character who constantly is doing dextrous activities like coin tricks as something to do that requires focus.  
> That is all from that mini rant/justification of my actions. I do hope you enjoyed and I love reading comments! <3


	12. Imbroglio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imbroglio  
> n.  
> a. A difficult or intricate situation; an entanglement.  
> b. A confused or complicated disagreement.

The break in the case came in time, just as Connor had suspected it would. There wasn’t solid evidence to pin down a suspect, but it was something. A change in the way the attacks were carried out which gave new evidence and allowed the cases to be looked at in a new perspective. Which despite the fact Connor wasn’t programmed to believe in luck, he couldn’t help but describe the new information as ‘lucky’. Despite the logical knowledge that new evidence would come eventually and further the case, Connor was relieved when it actually did happen. 

It then struck him as he stood over the mangled, plastic remains of an android, that relief really wasn’t the appropriate emotional response to the sight before him. 

The scene wasn’t as bloody as the previous android beatings. Where before injuries sustained ranged from limbs torn off to having been beaten with baseball bats until the android closer resembled shards of plastic and piles of wires than the faux human visage they were meant to resemble. 

However the previous attacks had gone down, the scene had always been bloody. And that marked the greatest difference to this scene.

There was next to no blue blood staining this crime scene. And somehow Connor found the lack of blood more disturbing than when the street was painted blue. 

Lit by spot lights and vague red and blue light from the police drones above which were scanning the scene, cataloguing information for use in the lab - recording exactly the location of the body in relevance to surroundings, Connor knelt  by the body to analyse the scene. The victim in question was a common gardener model, he restrained himself from referring to the android by their model number - Hank had requested such at the last scene, _‘they’re people, Connor, you’re people, I doubt being called PL57 or whatever the fuck is exactly PC, now.’_ The android was dressed like much of the Jericho androids, wearing whatever they found and got a hold of easily. The synthetic skin layer was gone, leaving only the white plastic chassis. They were lying propped against a wall near a dark alley between two run down convenience stores that were closed in the evacuation. The shirt they had been wearing was torn at the chest, one of the only pieces of evidence of blue blood was on the fabric, around an incision that was made in the android's chassis. The other blue blood evidence was visible from where the android has their head ducked down to their chest, blue staining the collar of the back of it's shirt.

“There’s no blue blood around here.” Hank’s stated the obvious as he stood behind Connor where he was knelt over the body. Connor realised Hank was likely just talking to himself, thinking through a theory. "Not even faded, not like it was spilled a few hours ago?"

“No, it seems like the android-“

“Call them the victim, Connor, not the android. Treat ‘em like humans. I know there’s no official shit making you equals yet but its only a matter of time.” 

Connor nodded in response, it was true after all, he just couldn’t shake parts of his programming that argued occasionally that androids were just machines - the same part that regularly reminded him that he was just a machine. He tried to ignore that when it happened.  

“The victim,” Connor restarted, “Doesn’t show signs that there was a struggle. No damage or fracturing to the chassis along the arms. The previous scenes were so bloody due to the android fighting back and the sheer anger with which the attackers assaulted the victim.”

“So how’d they stop him from fighting back?” Hank leant closer to Connor, looking over his shoulder. Connor tried to ignore the fleeting urge to look back round to see exactly how close Hank was, instead focusing on the androi- the victim.

“He was a domestic model, not intended to withstand any harsh damages. Look here,” Connor pointed to the back of the victim’s neck, where the white chassis was meant to have a dark grey segment of plastic. In the victim, the grey plastic had been punctured - most likely by a screwdriver according to Connor’s preliminary analysis, “He appears to have been attacked with a screw driver. In a domestic model, there’s no protection here. The weapon would have severed wire A-22-B-“

“English?” Hank sighed slightly. 

“It’s almost the same as if I were to stab you in the back of the neck, damaging the spinal column could result in paralysis. Androids were created to be biologically similar, bio components in similar places, including vital wires where human biology has vital nerves.” Connor explained easily, only slightly allowing the wince on his face to tint his tone with pity as he took the time to consider what he was saying, _they would have been conscious and entirely unable to move._ Connor felt the need to swear.

“I gained from that that you’re apparently planning to stab me with a screwdriver. That and that the attackers knew what they were doing. They aimed for something specific this time, bit of a step up from taking a bat to someone and relying on brute strength.”

“Correct. This required more information, more than a random attacker is likely to have. And then there’s the Thirium. It was drained from the android, while it’s thirium pump was still beating.” Connor opted to explain in the most emotionally detached way he could, pointedly not voicing how horrible the experience would have been for the victim. From the flash of revulsion and anger that passed over Hank's features it was obvious he had read between the lines anyway and figured out how the android died.

“Fuck.” Hank lowered his voice and the anger could be heard in the way he spoke, “That required even more smarts, right?” 

Connor nodded in the affirmative, “The thirium was removed efficiently, not just in a random way, see this set of incisions here, near the pump regulator. There was very little thirium wasted," He winced inwardly at his own phrasing, "It suggests that the attacker’s motive wasn’t just an anti-android fuelled attack-“

“They wanted the thirium,” Hank finished, standing up straight again, “Fuck. Fucking fuck! Please tell me there’s another purpose for thirium besides for blue blood and the reason I’m thinking of?” 

“If you are suspecting the production of drugs, then no. There is no other reason.” Connor shook his head as he stood, _Hank won’t like this._

“Fuck. Red ice.” Hank near enough growled the words, “Shit. Fine, okay. This gives us a break in the case, we can look at it from a drug standpoint now. That gives us leads to look into, existing red ice dealers, known dens, we can map out this attack in relation to dealers and shit, might give us an idea of where to look next.”

“I’ve already sent the report to the station, and put in a request for an officer to start pulling up names of known dealers.” Connor pointedly turned away from the body. Hank seemed to notice as a pitiful expression crossed his features, “This means we can request the cooperation of the illegal substances team. It would further the investigation, seen as there actually is something that is illegal which can be-“

“Connor.” The word came out as a low warning.

“I’m sorry, lieutenant but you know the reason we were alone on this case is because androids aren’t equal. It isn’t a chargeable offense to destroy one. Without a law to enforce then the DPD couldn't afford to-”

“Yeah, but there will be a law, right now it's a shitty and difficult situation but that's just temporary," Hank cut him off quickly, a harsh scowl that made clear Connor wasn't to argue with him,  "So this shit is murder, not destruction of property, they were people Connor! Stop talking like a fucking machine, and don’t even think about saying you are one!” The argument was one they had already had at least once, Connor knew. And by Hank’s tone and the exasperated sigh that passed his lips it sounded like an argument he didn’t want to have again. Connor looked away from his harsh stare, prompted by a feeling he couldn't identify but informed him that the feeling of Hank's annoyed glare being aimed at him was something he didn't enjoy. Instead Connor looked back to the body, which just made him feel worse. Hank sighed again before Connor felt the heavy weight of a hand on his shoulder, “Come on, that’s all we can do. Leave the rest to forensics, let’s head back to the DPD.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *turns up late with starbucks in hand* sup.  
> Sorry for the late upload - and the small upload at that, it's barely even 1500 words I think. University started back last week and it's been a bit hectic - combined with the fact I've had a grand total of about 5 hours sleep in the past three days I am not doing too great. But I got this written last night after I attended a really interesting open lecture which actually held some relevance to this chapter! I went to a talk on the future technology of crime scene investigation and it was good shit. All about using Virtual Reality and Augmented Reality to allow investigators and jury members to better understand the site of a crime. That's probably why this chapter ended up lapsing into case fic territory but I need the case there for a future plot point so - sorry! Also cause while my knowledge of forensics is severely limited, the whole investigating stuff really interests me - so I wanted it to be in here. I'll update ASAP with a proper chapter! Love you all <3 (I had a real problem editing this chapter so I apologise for any mistakes)


	13. Assuage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assuage   
> verb. - 1 To make milder or less severe; relieve; ease; mitigate: “to assuage one’s pain.”   
>  2\. to appease, satisfy, or relieve: “To assuage one’s hunger.”   
>  3\. to soothe or calm: “To assuage his fears;” “To assuage her anger.”

Hank generally made a conscious effort not to think about how fucking weird Connor’s influence on him had been. Partially because it would involve admitting some things to himself that he didn’t want to. Partially because it would remind him of how his life would have gone if the damned android sent by cyber life had never walked into that bar. He had figured out weeks ago that Connor didn’t want to live at Jericho, and who was he to tell him otherwise. Other than the person that was letting the damn android live rent free in his house. But Hank didn’t really have any complaints. It wasn’t like he was draining money away. The worst Connor had done since moving in was remind him constantly about the sugar and fat intake of his favourite foods. _Buzzkill._ Hank listened to him anyway and made a show of not complaining when he noticed Connor had cooked healthier food. He could tell of course when the food was cooked and not just microwaved, Connor was a shit cook. It was edible, but it wasn’t perfect.

But fuck, it was stupid and weird and downright bizarre how much Connor had managed to distract him from his old habits, and how _normal_ this new way of life became. Since Connor had started living in the small house, Hank woke up actually in a bed far more often than he had in years (and before noon), and on the few occasions he didn’t wake up in his bed it wasn’t because he was passed out on the kitchen floor covered in whiskey and vomit - but rather because him and Connor had been watching a movie for too long after getting back from the station and he had passed out on the sofa, and awoken with a sore back and to the sight of Connor still on his side of the sofa, Sumo sitting on his feet. He rarely reached for the bottle to drown out his own thoughts. His magnum revolver with one loaded bullet sat in a kitchen drawer, abandoned and untouched. If Hank thought about it, and he really didn’t want to, then he would realise that this was the longest that had passed without at least one game of Russian Roulette disappointing Hank with its result. Life with Connor seemed a lot more like actually living, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years. He hadn’t thought he’d ever feel _alive_ again after Cole, hadn’t thought any circumstance could change to allow that to happen. But it apparently did. And thinking about what that could mean was nigh terrifying.

Sometimes however, he had no choice but to think about it. Such as when he suddenly realised one day what the date was.

Connor called him into the living room from where Hank knew he was in his corner of the sofa, the mindfulness colouring book he had given him sitting on his lap, to which he followed the sound easily and without question, just as a blonde news reporter on the screen began her report. Hank leant on the back of the sofa, close enough to Connor that his breathing disturbed the synthetic brown curls.

“Today on the 6th of December, 2038, I am glad to bring you the report that the evacuation order on Detroit has been lifted,” She continued to talk as block letters reading “Detroit Citizens Come Home for Christmas”.

The realisation of the date – and the festive season that it was associated – hit Hank like a truck. Without people to uphold the annual city tradition of draping the city in so many gaudy green and red lights that it was seizure inducing, December had crept up on him.

Christmas had never really been a huge deal for Hank. It was one more day in one more year, one more holiday season, he hadn’t seen it as much else since he had stopped believing in Santa as a kid. Even as a kid Christmas had never been a huge celebration, his mother hadn’t had enough money for that. They’d lived modestly, with small celebrations, just the two of them. Family made the season in the Anderson household when he had been a child. As he became older and Christmas had lost that childlike appeal it became a time he could just spend with his mom, family still the core of the occasion. After losing that family the celebration went with her to the grave. By his mid twenties the 25th of December really was just another day.

He had never hated it back then though, he had never resented the very sound of ‘Jingle Bells’ and cursed at the bright lights that covered the city from the time of mid November into the new year, not until he had lost Cole.

Cole had changed his ‘just another day’ mentality towards the Christmas season. He stopped offering to take the Xmas day shifts that no one else wanted because they were busy with family, because he had his own family to look after. Cole had made him change his views, he acted cheery and celebrated the season to be jolly as best he knew how. He had thought he did damn well as Cole’s father at Christmas, had a tree decorated and shiny enough to blind someone, presents had been stuffed under the tree. He had made a good show of being a ‘christmas person’. Cole had been all wrapped up in that childlike wonder and had left out carrots at night for Rudolph. And fuck if Hank was happy to adopt the season again because it made his family happy.

That had been before.

For the past handful of years, the city being draped in lights in November was the first event that sparked his bad – or well, worse than normal – mood that lasted until well into January. The past three Decembers had been alcohol induced blurs where he honestly barely remembered going into work. He supposed he was lucky that Fowler took pity on him and hadn’t fired him. God knows he had reason to. December had been cursing, swearing at co-workers who embraced ‘the Christmas spirit’ too early – though honestly even the 23rd of December would be too early as far as he was concerned. December was avoiding public places and the lights they brought and groaning every time he walked into a store to buy booze only to be greeted by the cheery, jingling musical reminder of exactly why he was buying two bottles of whiskey alone on a cold snowy night in the first place as repeating verses of Christmas songs he’d heard too many times drones unforgivingly out of the store radio.

But this year he hadn’t even noticed the time pass since Connor had started working with him – and for all intents and purposes living with him.

And suddenly that hurt, that caused a painful twist of guilt in his gut.

The blonde reporter was still talking on the screen but Hank hadn’t been listening, hadn’t been reading the words that came across the screen so much as blankly staring in the TV’s direction.

For the first time in a month he could feel his mind running wild the way it used to, circling the same thoughts over and over. It was the feeling that usually came before he reached for a bottle of whiskey.

-

Connor hadn’t been paying attention to the television screen, and hadn’t really wanted to if he was honest. Hank’s suggestion that he find something calming and relaxing to help him switch off had led to him getting better at relaxing, and the command ‘Complete Colouring Book’ had at some point entered his internal task bar on its own, joining the other tasks present which had also appeared of their own volition.

**DO NOT SELF DESTRUCT**

**SOLVE THE CASE**

**HELP JERICHO**

**COMPLETE COLOURING BOOK**

**TAKE SUMO OUT AT 19:45**

Connor had gotten used to new objectives appearing in the side of his vision, having decided some time ago that while he could turn off the visual he didn’t want to – the absence of any objective having proved more off putting than a slowly growing task bar.  He could feel the pressure of Sumo on his foot on the floor, he could hear Hank was washing dishes in the kitchen – something that wasn’t exactly a common occurrence but Connor suspected it was a lot more common nowadays than it had been before. Connor found himself having settled into a sort of relaxed state in Hank’s house. Occasionally an errant line of code in the back of his thoughts suggested that it was Hank himself that allowed Connor to relax, that it was his very presence that made his previous coding and orders seem to dull in influence and allow for these quiet moments in the house. Connor filed away the thought, attempting to pick a designated emotion or adjective for the feeling that warmed his chest – and then he settled for running a diagnostic to check for cooling fan errors. It came back in working order. He settled on a question mark for that particular thought in his file.

 If it weren’t for the sudden internal ping of a notification and the small icon appearing at the edge of his vision that alerted him to a message from Markus then he would have never thought to actually tune his hearing to focus on the TV.

**_Markus RK200 #684 842 971_ **

**_< Turn on the news.>_ **

**_< We did it.>_ **

Connor tilted his head slightly, a small confusion as to what exactly ‘it’ was, and blinked the TV off of the crime drama that had previously been playing and onto the news to see Rosanna Cartland, a blonde reporter, reporting with a headline reading “Detroit Citizens Come Home for Christmas”.

He called for Hank on instinct as he continued to watch the report. He felt the back cushion of the couch just behind his head sink slightly, indicating Hank had listened and was now behind him.

““Today on the 6th of December, 2038, I am glad to bring you the report that the evacuation order on Detroit has been lifted. President Warren is about to issue a statement on the situation which we will go to as soon as it begins. We have reporters on site waiting to give the news as it breaks. In a preliminary statement released just a few minutes ago, President Warren said that she had been in contact with the deviant leader known as Markus and that there will be many discussions between them to come. In her statement she said that first and foremost, Markus has assured that Detroit citizens will not face violence from those androids who follow him. But do we still trust our machines?” Connor supressed the urge to roll his eyes at the screen, Hank didn’t move behind him. “We are now going live to the President’s conference,” The image on screen changed to Warren standing behind the same podium that she had done less than a month ago while campaigning against androids. “I stand here today with an important message to all citizens – including androids – because from today, here in the United States of America, androids are to be recognised as living citizens. They are to receive the same rights as their human counterparts, and…” Connor couldn’t help the smile which tugged at the corner of his mouth as he brought is legs up beneath him and turned on the chair so he could talk to Hank and found him looking-

Shit. His eyes were downcast, a frown tugging at his mouth. Connor tuned his hearing away from the news report and instead scanned Hank instead. His heart rate was faster than his average, facial muscles showed sadness, grief almost. Not the reaction Connor had expected. He straightened his back as he knelt backwards on the sofa in order to bring himself closer to Hank’s eye level,

“Lieutenant? Are you alright?” Connor attempted to talk softly, a part of his internal coding screaming at him to do something – anything – to find out what was wrong. A wary hand raised from his side without his permission, palm hovering just above Hank’s hand on the back of the sofa.

“It’s December already.” His voice was quiet and low in the small living room, tinged with a sadness Connor couldn’t place a reason for. His blue eyes were staring behind Connor towards the screen but were unseeing.

“Hank?” Connor tried again, allowing the hand which had been suspended in the air to settle over Hank’s. A sensor informed him of the warmth that Hank’s skin gave off.

“I hadn’t even realised the time passing. Shit, guess it really does just fucking fly doesn’t it?” A small bitter laugh fell from his lips as he gave a minute shake of his head. “I fucking hate Christmas – hate December. Curse it with a fucking passion. Reminds me too much of what I had, before…what I don’t have now… I didn’t even notice it this year. I was too fucking happy to- Shit, I was too happy to remember my dead fucking family! Am I that shit a person?” Hank bowed his head as he gave another of those bitter half laughs, voice having raised in volume as he continued talking.

Connor felt his mouth open and close, no sound came from his voice modulator.

“I forgot him, I forgot Cole. Fuck, I should be in a fucking whiskey coma at this time of year.”

“Hank, I… I don’t understand.” Connor didn’t know how he was supposed to act, what he was meant to say. He could barely even pinpoint what had brought on the change in atmosphere in the room. All he really did know was that he wanted Hank to not wear that depressed frown on his face. He wanted to _fix_ it. Hank sighed deeply, features somehow falling further.

“I… I’m sorry, Connor.” He slumped forwards, pillowing his forehead on his forearm, and on Connor’s who still had his hand laying on Hank’s hand, “Fuck, I just. Fuck, this is an important announcement for you and I’m too caught up in my own shit. I’ll… I’ll just go get a drink.” Connor felt Hank exhale a hot breath, ragged and shuddery.

He felt his left arm rise, without his permission to execute the program to actually move the limb, and hover in the air for a moment, hesitant much as he had been before when touching Hank. He couldn’t figure out why – he had touched Hank before, thrown him drunk into a bath, steadied his hips so he didn’t fall from the alcohol, he had hugged him at the Chicken Feed. But now he hesitated.

That same piece of code that Connor had filed away under a question mark came back to the forefront of his thoughts as he stared at Hank, still collapsed forward against the back of the sofa. The bit suggested that it was Hank himself that allowed Connor to relax. Maybe he could fix it?

In what felt like an extended amount of processing time to Connor, had been mere milliseconds to human perception, Connor made the definitive decision to lay his hand on Hank’s, threading his fingers into grey hair. He wasn’t certain what he was doing, but he knew the human warmth that Hank radiated was something he enjoyed.

After a couple of sustained seconds of Connor not being certain whether he had done the right thing, Hank took an even breath – the shuddering breaths gone. It took another minute or so before Hank moved her face from where it had been buried in his arm and Connor’s hand. He only moved enough to look Connor in the eye, a very weak and fake looking smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Connor returned the smile the best we could.

“Don’t get a drink, Lieutenant.” Connor attempted to soften his voice the best he could, hand brushing a repetitive motion with his thumb in Hank’s hair, “We didn’t finish that episode of CSI.” The statement was left as an invitation, a last attempt to soothe Hank's emotions. He had an odd love of crime drama's which Connor couldn't fully understand given the fact he spent most of the time criticising proper crime scene procedure. His attempts to assuage Hank must have worked somewhat as his breathing slowed further, heart rate dropped to his average, a relaxed rhythm that Connor could sense easily. It made Connor's soft smile pull a little wider and toothier.

“This all seems a bit, umm, domestic here, Connor?” Hank flicked his gaze towards Connor’s hand. For a split second Connor made the move to take his hand away, but decided better of it when he caught the minute movement of Hank’s eyes and a small pop up in his hub suggested a microexpression of disappointment pass over his features. _Hank doesn’t want me to take my hand away?_

“Domestic.” Connor hummed slightly, that word could fill in his most recent question mark emotion couldn’t it?  He allowed his hand to sit in Hank’s hair until Hank moved first to come around and sit on his side of the sofa.

They arranged themselves back into the position they always sat in. Connor on his side of the sofa, sitting with his back too straight to be comfortable for a human, Hank slumped in his corner of the couch cushions, Sumo was still at Connor’s feet. It was comfortable and familiar, and yet different and closer than before. He still wasn’t certain as to what exactly Hank had had a problem with, gaining that it was related to Cole but unsure as to how Hank’s happiness coincided with forgetting about Cole. He brushed the thought aside for the moment, deciding that they both needed to relax. Connor risked a glance at Hank’s face after about 5 minutes of the episode of the old 2000s crime show. He could tell his LED had been yellow since Hank had first frozen up behind him. He gave into the small urge in his mind that told him to lean to the side, to give up his perfect posture in exchange for leaning against Hank, head laying against his shoulder.

He felt Hank stiffen beneath him before relaxing again.

_Yes, something had changed._

Connor ran a small search in his mind, attempting to find out exactly what had changed and what it meant, forcing the technology he had access to to put itself to use in this situation – not exactly the criminal context it was intended for but Connor would be damned if he didn’t find a use for his coding in his new life.

The result made him swear internally.

_Oh I’m fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, it's late. I have a class in 7 hours. I'm currently sitting at 2:30AM, eating take out alone in my dark house, so cold that I'm sitting pressed against the radiator and wearing gloves in freakin September. bloody hell. Right, Okay.  
> Hey, welcome back! Welcome to the feelings rollercoaster chapter! So a thing or two, Hank's feelings towards Xmas are actually entirely me projecting onto him. I know that a lot of other authors who deal with Xmas in their fics give him a similar stance on the holiday but the exact situations and reactions to that - all the avoiding public places, hating the first day you see xmas lights going up in city square - that's exactly how I act. As it is, it's not just a fanfic trope! I really did come to hate Xmas after the loss of my only close family - my mother and my great grandmother who I lost within 8 weeks of eachother and suddenly I was left with no one I shared a last name with, all before I was 18. And sometimes just the smallest thing can set you off, going one day without mourning and grieving can be more guilt inducing than anything else in the world. And I did that whole drunk Xmas thing and it fucking sucked, and Hank did that too but, but, But! The important thing is now even if he doesnt want to celebrate xmas he has someone there! A friend! And you wouldn't believe how important that can be - and it may be a long way away from xmas but try and remember that when it comes. That's why I'm saying all this, not for my benefit but for you lot; People sometimes hate xmas, it reminds us too much of what we once had and no longer do, its unlikely we want you to celebrate xmas with but damn just knowing youre not alone is a big thing! And of course youre not alone! None of you are!  
> That took a tangent - geez I must be tired if I'm talking like that. This chapter really was a rollercoaster and it sort of devolved into a fluff fest at the end - but hey. We're to the point where they both sorta realise they have caught a serious case of feeeeelingggs. So, progress. Tell me if youre enjoying - really I love to read comments, whether its an essay or just a smiley face (personally I tend to comment with <3) - and also I love reading all of your names! From Bubbly Washing machines, stealthy thieves, hot piles of garbage, beam me up broadway. I love all youre freaking names! Theyre so random and cool - puts mine to shame lol. I should probably, like, stop now. This is getting hysterical. I'll proof read tomorrow, If theres a glaring mistake or something that makes no sense don't be scared to tell me. <3


	14. Limerence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Limerence  
> Noun; Psychology - An attempt into the scientific study of love.  
> Limerence is considered as a cognitive and emotional state of being emotionally attached to or even obsessed with another person, and is typically experienced involuntarily, other characteristics include acute longing for reciprocation, fear of rejection, and unsettling shyness in the limerent object's presence

Connor ran the situation through his technologically advanced processes for a third time. He analysed it as if it were a crime scene, in the way he knew best – taking the evidence in the house as if he were an outsider with no knowledge of who the inhabitants of the small house were.

Two people living alone in a house, with a dog. Both making active efforts to aid the other’s emotional health. One making efforts to improve the other’s physical health out of concern for them, the other giving a gift in the form of something small and meaningless – and yet the mindfulness colouring book has become a part of Connor’s daily routine. There was an emotional undertone to the actions. The individuals appeared to aid eachother’s routines, appearance rates at work having significantly improved, taking time to rest, using healthy outlets to calm – all due to eachother’s influence. And now, sitting on a sofa, with no barriers between them. No more one side of suspect A, one side designated for suspect B. No, now there was no invisible line down the centre of the piece of furniture separating them as Connor sat with his head leant against Hank – who was allowing it.

Connor knew how he would interpret the evidence if he were an investigator with not prior knowledge.

He would file the two individuals down as being in a romantic relationship.

_Fuck._

He could feel his software drawing connections between emotions in his ‘unknown emotion’ folder to when he experienced them. A calm that Hank caused, the ability to bring him down from heightened emotional states, the warmth that was entirely unrelated to external or internal temperature that occurred when Hank said specific things or just when he was physically nearby, the word domestic and how it had felt rolling off of is tongue. _Closeness, kinship, comfort, homeliness, family_. The words being spat out at him by his processor certainly supported the romantic relationship conclusion. _Emotional attachment, trust, family, …love?_ Love was an common denominator, seemingly a necessity, in romantic relationships by all searches of his data base. And yet no searches seemed to give him a consistent result of what exactly the emotion entailed. Or how to identify if one was feeling it.

**Love - synonyms:  be in love with · be infatuated with · be smitten with · be besotted with · be passionate about · care very much for · feel deep affection for · hold very dear.**

He did care about Hank, even before truly deviating he had risked his own life for and had sacrificed his mission for Hank. That must have meant something?

**Love - VERB: feel deep affection or sexual love for (someone).**

Was it affection that he experienced? Was concern for someone’s health affection? Where was the line between friend and lover? Were he and Hank even friends? He had told Markus that he wasn’t even certain if they were. And even if all of the previous statements were true, there was nothing of a sexual nature between them. So it wasn’t love? Would he be entirely opposed to it however?

 **Love; also related;- intimacy -** **a cosy and private or relaxed atmosphere.**

**The quality of being comfortable, warm, or familiar.**

A cosy, private atmosphere was definitely fitting of how he viewed the time they spent together. There was an undeniable craving for the attachment and closeness he had developed with Hank, that was what had led to him living with the lieutenant after all. All after an inadvisable action that he had been unable to resist, and he had called the man,

Why couldn’t he find a clear cut answer to any of this? The RK800 was programmed with advanced social procedures and adaptability modules in order to integrate flawlessly into and team. And yet he was somehow still useless at what should be a simple and clear cut question. What had changed? When? What did he feel – how did it relate? The lack of factual knowledge was irritating.

He ran his internal analysis again, reviewed the evidence at hand and searched for the error margin and the likelihood that he had analysed incorrectly.

Absently he was aware of the slight raise in his own stress levels, alerted by the notification at the side of his vision. He frowned at it, apparently his analysis of how Hank usually made him feel was causing the opposite effect, rather than calming him it was raising stress levels.

An abnormally deep and slow breath from Hank that raised his shoulder and Connor’s head as a result pulled him from his analysing. He was unsure of exactly how long he had allowed himself to become distracted. Information about his surroundings and Hank’s vitals streamed into his field of view, the small text scrolling at the edge of his HUD. Steady heart rate, even breathing, relaxed form – conclusion asleep. He checked his internal clock, apparently he had been focused on analysing his situation and possible feelings for almost half an hour – and for an android with his processing speed that indicated incredibly deep and distracting thought. Connor was slightly surprised that Hank had gotten to sleep in such a small space of time.

 _Unless my proximity aided the situation? Possibility that I am capable of bringing Hank down from heightened emotional states as he can for me? Possibility of mutual feeling_ \- He halted the line of thought before it could continue, blanking out his entire internal thought process that presented itself like a scrolling wall of text. Instead he closed out of every piece of information in his vision, leaving only his mission task bar open.

**DO NOT SELF DESTRUCT**

**SOLVE THE CASE**

**HELP JERICHO**

**COMPLETE COLOURING BOOK**

**TAKE SUMO OUT AT 19:45**

**LOWER STRESS LEVELS: CURRENTLY 57%**

Connor looked at the last two objectives, up to Hank’s sleeping face, relaxed in a way it rarely was at any other time. The sight caused that feeling, (fondness?), in his biocomponents. He felt himself stiffen slightly. Now that he had determined the high probability that he harboured feelings he shouldn’t for the Lieutenant and had connected it to his other emotions he recognised his emotions far easier. And what was causing them.

**LOWER STRESS LEVELS: CURRENTLY 59%**

The number jumped slightly. He looked down to the lightly snoring dog on the floor and to the time. 19:34 was close enough to when he intended to take Sumo for a walk anyway. And perhaps he may be able to lower his stress levels at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Turns up very, very late, with many Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Lattes in an attempt to make up for my absence* ...hi  
> Sorry, I didn't mean to disappear for as long as I did. I just had a load of shitty weeks back to back, uni got serious and stressful all to quickly and I just didn't cope as well as I should be able to. When I wasn't stressing about uni I was beating myself up for my lack of ability to handle the pressure - I mean, geez, I got into uni, I knew what it was gonna be like - I cant just crack like that. Suddenly I found myself picking back up old addictions that I in no way should have turned back to - I dont even like smoking! Its bad that I can relate to Hank and his coping methods lol Sorry, rambling. I'll stop.  
> So, small chapter I'm uploading just to make it clear I am still alive. This chapter title was one of the words I found very early and decided that I needed to write a corresponding chapter and I've just been waiting for the opportunity to do so. Got there eventually. I'll try and be better about updating from here on.
> 
> On an entirely unrelated note any of you play pokemon go? cause, if you do you'll know theres a mythical thing that requires you to make friends in game and I only have like 2 gamer friends irl. Theres maybe like 4 of you still hanging around this fic, right? maybe one of you plays? If so anyway, my friend code is thus: 3772 1543 7060. Names Cococaveenso - I'll send you gifts!  
> Anyway, now that I've appeared out of the blue, ranted at you after giving you very little and then asking y'all to be nerds and be my friend in a dumb game I shall bid you adieu till next time. Love you all if you're still there! And even if you aren't, probably still love yall lol. <3  
> Also it’s 4:30am and at the exact second I went to post this a spider ran across the floor and I may or may not have screamed and may or may not have awoken my house mates.  
> Edit: 24/11/18 Spell checked and I think I caught everything I had to - But if you see mistakes at any time please feel free to tell me - this is unbeta'd afterall  
> 


	15. Velleity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Velleity - Noun: a wish or inclination which is not strong enough to lead one to take action

Hank woke up alone on the sofa to a quiet house. He jumped at the lack of sound but only until he noticed the absence of Sumo as well as Connor. He always took Sumo out between quarter to eight at night and quarter past, despite Hank’s insistence that he could look after his own damn dog. But then, those sorts of arguments hadn’t worked for cooking, cleaning the house or anything else that Connor had taken to doing. At some point he had given up complaining aloud.

He grumbled as he dragged himself off of the sofa, joints that really weren’t young enough to be falling asleep on the sofa popping in their sockets. _How long was I even asleep?_

He glanced to the windows in the relative dark of the room, the light outside no use to actually determining the time. The sun was gone early most nights anyway in December. _Cursed fucking month, dark, cold and shitty._

_No, stop, that’s the kind of thinking that had you being a fucking asshole earlier and worrying Connor._

Hank cursed aloud to the empty house. _What even fucking happened? I felt like shit, Connor calmed me down, had his fucking hand in my hair- fuck. What the fuck am I letting myself into? Why the fuck did he do that? And leaning into my fucking shoulder – what the? Stop. I’m getting too attached to him, looking into this shit too much. It was nothing._

 

Connor arrived back earlier than he usually would, both him and Sumo covered in a light dusting of powder snow. Hank pointedly ignored the snow that had collected in Connor’s hair and on his lashes. Connor didn’t mention the fact that they’d been all snugged up and domestic earlier, so Hank didn’t acknowledge it aloud either. They both went back to their sides of the sofa and watched TV. And the rest of the night passed like that in relative silence – not quite the kind of silence that was comfortable however. All the same, Hank could almost convince himself this was perfectly normal if he could stop thinking about the proximity of Connor and how much closer he had been before.  Domestic he had called it. _Fuck,_ when was the last time he had craved any form of domesticity.

 

Neither mentioned the domesticity of the previous night, or the way the atmosphere had shifted between the two. Even back in work there was something off about their dynamic. Less easy back and forth chatting, more stolen glances at eachother across the desk, it was as if the air was heavier around them. Hank couldn’t stop himself from wondering if this was his own shitty problems that had caused the change, his mood was back to the darker state that it had been in just 12 or so hours earlier. Connor had been jittery and his LED stuck on yellow since the night before, and it didn’t look as if that was going to change any time soon as Hank watched Connor walk down to the archives with a muttered mention of checking a piece of evidence. He sighed out deeply, cursing every tangible thing he could think of at that second.

“Trouble in paradise, Anderson?” The sneer in his ear made Hank jump, breaking a silence which Hank didn’t know how long had been dragging on. A weight leaning on the back of his chair disappeared and Reed moved to lean on Hank’s desk instead.

“The fuck you want, Reed?”

“To take the piss out of you. And tell you and your fucking plastic pet to get over whatever the fuck is wrong with you. You’re making the whole fucking place feel shitty.”

“The hell do you care about what goes on in this side of the room?

“I care ‘cause its distracting as fuck, literally all that anyone is paying attention to in here is you two fucks. Go get drunk and drown yourself in private – instead of shooting sad looks at a tin-can every other fucking minute. Or do one better, get rid of the can.” Reed flashed a cruel smirk that could barely be classed as a smile, just a show of teeth. “If it’s not playing nice with you, burn the thing before it-“

Hank wasn’t aware of how much Gavin’s words had angered him until he felt his fist connect with flesh.

\---

It was funny how quickly emotions seemed to fire from one extreme to another. It was almost frustrating and illogical enough to make Connor wish he had never deviated. _Almost._ Where last night the change of atmosphere had felt almost positive directly after Hank’s episode, once he had come back from walking Sumo he found himself unable to stop recognising the emotions Hank caused. At some point his own subroutines had deviated against him and the ‘Unknown Emotion’ folder had relabelled itself as ‘Emotions Hank Causes’ folder. The realisation of how deep his care for the Lieutenant ran had been taking up a significant portion of his processing capacity and speed – and if last night he couldn’t even focus enough on his mental game of Pong that he had taken to playing at nights to pass the time, all because he had been too busy analysing every interaction he had ever experienced with the Lieutenant, then he certainly couldn’t focus effectively at work. After only 3 hours at the desk attempting to review evidence for their current cases Connor had given up attempting to analyse this one particular section of case report and decided he needed to work elsewhere. The quiet and stiffness of their conversations a far flung opposite to the usual easy banter was too off putting, combined with Hank’s repeated glances across the desk – Connor couldn’t handle it and process his own deviancy _and_ focus on the case he really owed to the androids of Detroit to have his whole focus on.

So he for all intents and purposes ran away, claiming he required to look over some evidence in the archives. Which hadn’t entirely been a lie. He really had needed to analyse a specific piece of evidence due to an inconsistency in the file – it just so happens he had been attempting to figure it out remotely, like he was programmed to be capable of, for far too long and made zero progress. It took a conscious effort to blank anything relating to last night or anything else equally distracting from his mind. And for a second it almost felt like being a machine again – a peaceful sort of zen that came from having a sole focus on only one objective.

It was tiny details, a small fragment of trace evidence in a place it shouldn’t have been, an indication of the presence of a person, cross referenced with a location where that one specific-

His rush of analysing was cut short by a cacophony of yelling and a bang from above. His detective work was very quickly filed for later, half complete deductions being put on the back burner, away as his focus suddenly turned to the source of the yelling as he turned out from the archive and half ran up the stairs into the bull pen. He could very easily identify Hank’s voice among the noise, and Detective Reed’s.

\---

The blood that painted Reed’s face and smeared across his lip as he ran his tongue across it didn’t stop him from cursing up a storm – both curses against Hank specifically and against androids. Most of the officers of the DPD were still out of the city since the evacuation, meaning there were few officers actually on shift in the station at that moment. And everyone who was on shift was watching, and none of them made a move to break up the fist fight. They had both gotten a few hits in, both aiming largely for the other’s face – leading to a bloody but largely harmless state for both parties.

He rubbed at his own bloody lip with the back of his knuckle, split by Gavin in retaliation for the blow to his nose. Hank seemed to have a thing for aiming for the nose when punching dick heads.

“Are you mad that I insulted your plastic toy? Or is it at the fact he isn’t speaking to you?”

Hank pulled his arm back and formed a fist, taking an advancing step forward, ready to take another swing at the prick of a detective when a tug at his elbow pulled his arm back and down.

“Lieutenant, stop.” Connor’s voice was clear and crisp even through the haze of anger.

“He’s talking about-“

“I am aware of what he has said, Lieutenant. I’m also aware of the fact he will, as you would likely put it, have his ass dragged to sensitivity training for having a shitty attitude towards androids. Especially in light of last night’s announcement on Android Rights – I’m sure you were thrilled at the result.” Hank could recognise the smallest glint in Connor’s eye that told him that Connor had really wanted an excuse to curse at Reed. Reed himself looked scandalised – and pissed.

“What the fuck did you just say you glorified piece of Lego, fucking-“

“Enough!”

Fowler’s voice was loud enough to carry over Gavin’s colourful vocabulary and silence the room, a couple of officers who were watching at the wings of the room took rather unsubtle steps backwards in an attempt to pretend they hadn’t just been happily watching the two officers known to have a distinct dislike of eachother start a fight.

“Reed, get your ass in my office, now! I know it’s that time of the year again Hank, but it’ll be your job soon if you don’t clean yourself up. Connor, take Anderson somewhere to calm him down.”

Reed stalked past the pair and off into Fowler’s office while Connor kept a hold of Hank’s arm as he passed – a precaution. Hank aimed a fleeting sneer in Gavin’s direction but quickly lost interest as Connor pulled gently at his arm.

“Come on, let me get you cleaned up.” Connor was looking at his face with an expression akin to concern, brows knitted together and nose wrinkled slightly, looking very human.

“I’m fine, Connor, it’s nothing.”

“This is not a point up for debate.” He tugged a little harder, leading towards the men’s bathrooms past the break room. It was enough to remind Hank that despite appearances Connor was more than strong enough to drag him one handed to wherever the android wished. And he really shouldn't have thought about that. 

 

There was quiet until they were in the bathroom and the door closed behind them, and then Connor sighed slightly.

“You’ve damaged your right hand, possibly your wrist. I thought a Lieutenant would know how to throw a straight punch.” Connor was gentle as he held Hank’s bloodied right hand in his own, almost cradling the limb. He began gently washing away the blood, both Gavin’s and Hank’s own, from the skin, focusing on the task with the same concentration that the android applied to crime scenes. Hank opted not to reply, instead watching the care with which Connor was treating him. Long fingers rubbing crimson away and revealing the cuts across his knuckles and the slight redness of the skin that indicated the bruise that would appear soon. “Why did you instigate a fight with the detective? I hope it was for a better reason than him calling me a piece of Lego.”

“You didn’t hear the shit he was spouting about you, Connor. He was talking about burning you!”  Hank heard his tone get harsher, a particularly gentle rub against his knuckle – only to wash the blood away of course – prompted him to breathe out the tension however. _Connor’s influence really was a bizarre fucking thing. First I start getting riled up by anti-android shit – not that I needed an excuse to want to punch Reed – and now Conn can calm it in all of 2 seconds. What the fuck am I doing here?_

“Lots of humans do and will continue to. It’s not out with what I expected – I’m pleasantly surprised it took Detective Reed this long to voice his opinions.” Connor gave a very quiet and low hum as he turned the lieutenant’s hand over, inspecting it, before giving a minute nod and resting it on the bunker by the porcelain sink.

“You can’t just take that shit.”

“I cannot just punch detectives when I feel like it, Lieutenant.” He smiled slightly despite the words, grabbing a pile of paper towels and wetting them, “Hold still, this will likely sting.”

Hank winced at the first contact between his lip and the wet towel, hissing slightly. Why was it always the small cuts and injuries that seemed the most annoyingly painful? The frown on Connor’s face lifted slightly, being traded for a slight sympathetic smile. He began wiping at the blood again and for a second time Hank jerked back from the touch.

“I did ask for you to be still for a reason,” Connor smiled wryly. Hank wasn’t paying much attention to the words or his smile though in that moment. Instead he watched as Connor’s free hand came to hold the side of Hank’s face that wasn’t bloodied, fingers brushing through stubble and holding him steady as he resumed wiping at the blood.

And very suddenly Hank realised that the heavy air from earlier was gone, just like that, and they were back to the peace of last night, when Connor had calmed him from the state he had been in. It was a certain type of calm that made it difficult to remember that there was anything occurring out with the quiet bubble that surrounded just the two of them.

Connor seemed too focused to notice Hank’s slack jawed staring, forgetting himself and the fact that 12 hours ago he was lying in bed cursing and trying to pretend there was nothing between them – that it was all just a misread situation.

“You’re lucky Detective Reed didn’t damage your teeth, he is stronger than he looks.” Connor spoke casually as he finished up cleaning the blood and tossed the bloodied paper towels into the trash can. Hank still didn’t say anything, unsure of what he could say – and of whether his voice would betray him as he continued to be transfixed on Connor’s lithe fingers as he washed Hank’s blood off of them. Vaguely he wondered how waterproof androids were. He remembered losing multiple phones to water damage in previous years – and losing one to milk damages (don’t keep phones in lunchboxes was the lesson he learnt from that one). But then, Connor wasn’t a Nokia from the 2000s.

Connor straightened up, looking into Hank’s eyes, the look in his dark eyes were almost intimidating – similar to how he looked over suspects while interrogating them.

“Are you pissed at me for last night?” The words fell from his mouth without permission, unconsidered and unrefined. He cursed himself internally for them. Connor tilted his head in the way he did, brows pulling together.

“Pissed? Sorry, Lieutenant?”

“I meant are you annoyed at me, I know I was a dick yesterday – that was a big thing for you, the rights shit on the news, and I sort of hijacked the moment.” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away in a vain attempt to ease the tension he felt. Connor however didn’t seem disturbed by the discussion, the peaceful atmosphere seemingly undisturbed on his end.

“No, I’m not annoyed at you, Hank. I apologise that I made you feel that way. I’ve just been caught up in my own thoughts – nothing to do with you.” Connor offered a small smile, Hank found himself unable to not return it. “I am annoyed that you got hurt in a punch up with the detective however. He really isn’t worth the effort.” A hint of a smirk pulled at his features.

“Says the guy who beat his ass in the evidence locker a month ago.”

“I barely spared him a minute of my time. Like I said, not worth it, not with his current attitude.” Connor took a deeper than usual, unneeded breath before fixing his tie. “Now, the case. I believe I’ve figured out where we can find them. I just need to check another file with the Red Ice department.”

Hank saw the way Connor smiled, proud of himself for figuring it out. Hank near enough grinned back, he knew how much the case meant to Connor, and how much closing it would mean.

Settled in a sound state of mind again, he nodded  and inclined his head to the door, “What are we waiting for. Tell me what you figured out with that brain of yours.”

“Technically I don’t have a brain as such.”

“Don’t even start, Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere in this chapter I spelt the word 'largely' wrong, I'm sure of it...and now I can't find it...damn. Anyway, Sup, I'm here with a new chapter - and a decent sized one at that! I am sorry for my lack of regular uploads, as background one of my lecturers is infamous for how much she scares and stresses students out, like half of the number of students we started with have dropped out cause that's just how that class is. Either you're good enough that she doesn't pick on you in class and give you personal lectures in front of everyone else and embrass you - or you drop out. I'm trying desperately to not be one of the drop outs.  
> Today I offer facts related to the writing of this chapter! Fact 1, I googled sunset times in Detroit for this chapter. Fact 2, it's winter in Scotland! And that means its cold as balls - the result is that this chapter was ghost written by fluffy socks, my ridiculous number of blankets and the cozy poncho I was wearing the whole way through the writing process. Fact 3, my mother really did kill a Nokia phone by drowning it in milk in her lunchbox - idek. She was a phone murderer, seriously. Fact 4, Cats are not helpful in the writing process, seriously. Half of this was written with one hand because my cat was using my arm as a pillow. Fact 5, I honestly don't hate Reed, really! Check my other works, I keep being hit by plot ideas for Reed900 and while I've been not updating here, I've been writing oneshots over there - where he's a decent guy, just a bit damaged (aren't we all). Just so happens that right here, right now in this piece he is a dick.  
> Bonus Fact! If you wanna annoy me next time I don't update for ages find and pester me @redbutterflies-blueeyes on tumblr (its literally a blog of trash, there is no theme, its just my personal blog) Alternatively, hit me up on my side blog @i-should-be-writing-rn, full of writer humour goodness (trash) - and occasionally plot spoilers are hidden in the tags of posts. I have a habit of ranting in the tags.  
> ttyl folks, hope you enjoy, comments give me life and I try and respond to every single one (but sometimes I read it, act all gooey about it, tell my housemates, then get so sidetracked being happy that I forget to actually reply to y'all)  
> Edit 24/11/18: I found the misspelt largely! I should really proofread things before posting instead of after...


	16. Persiflage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persiflage  
> Noun, light and slightly contemptuous mockery or banter.

Reed was nowhere in sight when they left the bathrooms and Connor led the way down to the evidence rooms – which Hank was glad of. While he was happy to punch the asshole’s nose in, he really didn’t need another disciplinary warning. His file was thick enough as it was, and Fowler had had it hard enough trying to defend Hank after he socked Perkins in the jaw. He reflected for what must be about the hundredth time that he was damned lucky that Fowler still believed that Hank was an officer worth the effort of keeping.

Having said that, watching Connor as he pulled out images and files on the large surface tablet in the evidence room, Hank was starting to think Fowler really would be better off replacing him with an android. Connor would probably make a damn better lieutenant. Connor was talking uncharacteristically quickly, drawing connections between evidence pieces in such a way that only an android could and that even with his decades of experience on the force, Hank had trouble following.

“But evidence piece 13-4-B1 is what gave me the necessary information to put it all together.”

“Some shitty fleck of paint?”

“I discounted it as errant data, part of the environment rather than anything related to the case or to any suspects. But this specific type of paint was only ever used in Detroit in the warehouse districts by the docks. Even more specifically, the trace chemical make up included Lithium, Acetone, Thirium Toluene and Hydrochloric acid upon further inspection-“

“Further inspection means you licked it didn’t you?”

“I sampled it, it only resembles licking to humans.”

“Still disgusting.” Hank felt his nose wrinkle slightly.

“Can I resume my explanation?” Connor tilted his head slightly as he waited and looked expectantly at Hank, who in return gave a half nod of his head. “It traces back to West Side Industrial estate.”

“That place is full of warehouses and shit, more than there used to be.”

“Do you remember the 2030 warehouse raid-“

“Fuck, you’re right, that was this area. Red ice taskforce, we made a bust on a warehouse off Abbott Street. Wasn’t major though.”

Connor shakes his head, the skin on his hand fades away as he interfaces with the table sized screen. “This building was one of those which used this specific industrial paint type. And,” A number of electronic files stamped as property of the drug taskforce pull up on the screen, “Reading the reports, as recent as summer there were suspicions that dealers had returned to the same base of operations. No officers ever had the opportunity or the necessary evidence to investigate. But this is it, this is where they are!” The look on Connor’s face as he looked back to Hank was solidly determined, it was visible in his eyes and made him look so very human, “These are our perpetrators. They’re siphoning blue blood from androids, having absorbed the anti-android group originally responsible for the beatings, and would appear to be using the current lack of law enforcement presence to their advantage.”

“Fuck, Connor I think you got it.” Hank found himself speechless and proud as Connor finished his rapid explanation. _Only a couple of weeks working for the force and he’s catching connections and evidence that we would have overlooked for weeks to come._

“It’s enough, isn’t it? To warrant a raid on this facility?” Connor still held that fiery determination in his eyes.

“It should be, but launching shit like this could take some time. Come on, we need to get to Fowler.”

\---

“It would be the most beneficial if we were to deal with this issue as soon as possible, we could prevent any further deaths!”

The discussion had been going for a couple of minutes now, with very little progress made. It pissed Hank off, it left Connor as close to furious and passionate as Hank had seen him.

“Huge numbers of citizens will be flooding back into this damned city in the next few days, we don’t have the resources to spare to follow a hunch!”

“With due respect, Captain, this is not a hunch – this is a conclusion drawn to with supporting evidence which cannot be disputed!” Hank debated pulling Connor back before he lost his job but stopped when he saw Jeffrey’s own will falter. Connor kept pushing. “Detroit is the city in which the android revolution started, the reason for the President’s announcement. I highly doubt that it will reflect well on the DPD if it is found to be neglecting the androids in this new fledgling time of peace.”

_Fucker really is going for it_ , Hank almost couldn’t hold back a smile.

“You know that isn’t what’s happening here, Connor! I’m just stating that we don’t have the resources.”

“The public will not see it that way. I’m just playing Devil’s Advocate to make the point that they will. And when they do, I already will have warned against this. We cannot let this go unchecked, you cannot.”

“Alright!” Fowler threw his hands up, “I’ll do what I can to push this through but I can’t work damned miracles Connor. Anderson’s been a bad influence on you. On that note, go home. I can’t have you in the office after that incident with Reed. It’s hard enough protecting you in this shitshow, if it looks like I didn’t at least suspend you for a day then it’ll only be harder.” Fowler slumped visibly back in his chair, “Both of you go. I’ll talk to the department heads, see who can spare officers, and when.”

Connor smiled, an all too polite smile that Hank got the feeling was entirely fake and almost smug at his victory. “Of course, thank you Captain.”

“Out!”

Hank didn’t spare Fowler any words as he followed Connor out of the office, the two only stopping to grab Hank’s coat and shut off their terminals before leaving the building. Hank waited until they were both outside in the Detroit snow until he brought up what had just happened.

“You used your negotiation shit on our boss didn’t you?” Hank squinted at Connor as they closed the doors to the car and shut out the cold wind.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you are suggesting.” Connor looked Hank in the eye, brown eyes wide and mimicking a faux innocence that would be convincing if Hank hadn’t been living with the android for weeks now.

“Yeah you fucking do, you used that shit Cyberlife programmed you with so that you could get your way.”

“Of course not, that would be inappropriate in a situation with a superior.” Connor’s act fell slightly, a corner of his mouth quirking in a smile which was much more convincing and natural looking now than it would have been three weeks previous, “However, the data supplied by my programming cannot be hidden from my view easily. If I happened to catch sight of my programming prompts as to the best approach for the situation then it was purely accidental, of course.” The glint in his eye and the way his smile grew made it clear that he was lying, and smug, and perhaps a little mischievous about the whole situation.

“Well aren’t you the bad cop.”

“Truly the worst.”

Hank laughed as he turned the key and started his car, engine spluttering to life in the cold air and drove the pair of them back home.

\---

Admittedly his hand had hurt while driving, but that’s what happens when you throw punches at peoples jaws – and not even straight punches at that. That was his bad, but many things seem like a good idea while angry, and many things seem to bypass the common sense part of Hank’s brain when Connor is concerned. His knuckles quickly purpled on the journey home and were pretty badly bruised by the time they had parked and gotten inside – fuck I’m getting old, I don’t remember bruising this easily when I was younger.

Connor barely took the time to throw Sumo out into the back garden to do his business before grabbing Hank’s arm, dragging him to sit at the kitchen table and peering and scrutinising the red and purple knuckles.

“Connor, you already did all this at the station, it’s fine.” Hank tried to shake Connor off but he kept a firm yet gentle grip of Hank’s wrist and showed no sign of having listened.

“There’s a possibility of fractured metacarpal bones, you appear to have struck with your middle and last two knuckles.” Connor looked like he was scanning, dedicating time to the injury again.

“I was pissed, I didn’t have the presence of fuckin mind to do it properly, now will you leave it alone, I’m fine. Barely stings.” _Not exactly true. But if you’d stop holding my damn hand that would be just fuckin’ swell._

“I don’t like the idea of you being hurt.” He said the words as if they were simple, the utterance easy to admit. But they held a weight to them that almost made Hank squirm his hand away, “Particularly since you were doing it for me.”

“He said shit, Conn.”

“I don’t care.” He cut Hank’s excuses off easily. “You’ve changed a lot too. You tell me I’ve changed sometimes, but you have too.”

“How so?” Hank murmured lowly, Connor had stopped examining his hand but hadn’t let go.

“You support androids a lot now. Vicki and Aeron, keeping me from calling them by their model number.” Connor refocussed his attention and turned over Hank’s hand a couple of times and began prodding at bones.

“Yeah, well, wouldn’t happened without working with you. I mean, you were a fucking shit at the start,” Connor smiled slightly, “But we work well together.”

“Until you start assaulting officers.”

“That was one time-“

“Two times.”

“He was a fed, feds don’t count!” Connor laughed, apparently satisfied with the amount of prodding at the bruised flesh he had done and instead stood up to call Sumo back inside, who walked in with so much snow clinging to his coat that he looked like a walking snowball, and close the door. “What the fuck time is it anyway, how early were we thrown out of work?”

“I would argue that it was specifically you who was thrown out of work, and it’s currently 4pm.”

“Fuck you. And fuck, that early. What the fuck are we gonna do now?” Hank left the kitchen table to instead slump onto his corner of the sofa.

“I have a suggestion.”

“Really? Sure, shoot. Wait, you don’t have you’re gun on you before I say that do you? You take shit too seriously sometimes.”

“No, I am not armed.” Connor glared, an unamused visage that wasn’t entirely sincere. Hank didn’t know what it was but even with Connor’s machine ability to emulate emotions and mask his own there was always a tell of some form as to how sincere the emotion was. “A couple of nights ago I found a ‘bucket list’ of films. I thought perhaps we could watch some.”

“A couple of nights ago? Do you ever sleep? Or, like, android sleep?”

“No, as a matter of fact. Androids are capable of resting however I am fully alert at night.” Connor answered, pulling his legs up underneath him on the sofa – something he had taken to doing.

“Seriously? You never sleep?” Hank shifted so he could talk more face on. Connor shook his head.

“No, I suspect I am one of the few androids who don’t.” The LED at his forehead flickered yellow, “I find it…unsettling.”

“How so?”

“The idea of being even temporarily shut off…the only time I have experienced similar is when I was destroyed in Stratford Tower. That was the only time I wasn’t alert and awake. The concept is too similar for my liking.” Connor squinted slightly and the corner of his lips pulled down almost imperceptibly.

“Fuck, seriously? So you spend the whole night looking up films to watch or some shit?”

“Or some shit.” He shrugged slightly, “They’re meaningless activities. I’ve succeeded in adapting versions of old mobile phone applications so that I can pass the time playing them.”

“You’re playing fucking Space Invaders in your brain is what you’re telling me.” Hank couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. For all Connor adapted to humanity, sometimes he sounded so fucking out of place.

“I don’t have a brain, technically. But that it the idea. Can we watch a film now?” He blinked his long eyelashes with an innocent expression as if he didn’t know he was designed to make people give in and agree with every fucking thing the damn android asked.

“What’s first?”

“The most common film I have found across many lists is ‘ _The Breakfast Club_ ’”

“Fuck, seriously? Okay then.”

\---

At some point during their film session that line of who’s side of the sofa was who’s had been erased and the two had ended up touching just slightly. Whether it was Connor shifting so that his legs were curled up at the opposite side to the way they usually were, forcing his body slightly closer to the centre of the sofa – or whether it was Hank’s shift out of the corner he usually slumped in to leaning towards the centre of the sofa and closer to Connor’s shoulder – was unknown. But neither complained about the situation. And if Connor had grabbed Hank’s hand to check his injuries and had just so happened to have left it sitting in his lap then that was just fucking peachy with Hank – he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m writing the beginning of this authors note as I start to write the chapter, at present for me its 23:35, in a far too fucking cold house in Scotland – I got a cinnamon bagel, 2 litres of Dr Pepper and an electric heater – and I’m gonna write for as long as I damned well can tonight. Preferably until I finish the chapter – and maybe get the chance to at least outline the next chapter. I got a week of very little work, after having two exams last week I have no more until my last on the 12th so I’m gonna try and use that time to get this written.   
> But hey, I just realised the date is almost the same as the date in the story right now. It’s the 7th of December for Hank and Connor as of when this chapter starts. And now I’m gonna start writing – I know where I want the next few chapters to go and have been sort of internally day dream writing them for quite a while now, I just don’t have the specifics set out – but this is where that ‘writer idea, a storm’s coming’ bit of the tags is gonna come into play. 
> 
> As it was this ended up at about 2200 words and it is right now 03:28 as I'm doing my very minimal proof reading.   
> But Guys! They're just a tiny bit Gayer(tm)!!!   
> I was very stuck on a chapter title, in the end settling for a slightly meta choice as a reference how ridiculously dialogue based this chapter is. But oh well, I tried. And now that's me for the night, I can sleep now. Thank you for reading - dunno how good this chapter was, I have a feeling my tenses are all over the place (I fucking left highshool wil the highest possible qualification in English, christ how the fuck did I do that looking at this shit)   
> Comment, Kudos - whatever if you enjoyed, I'll try not to wait as long between now and the next update.


	17. Mercurial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercurial  
> adjective - Characterized by rapid and unpredictable changeableness of mood; subject to sudden or unpredictable changes of mood or mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slightly longer one than usual - I apologise. I just wanted it all out in one chapter. I think this ended up being 4300 words - which for plenty of other authors is the length of a normal chapter. Gods, I'm an awful writer lol

It was warm and bright when he opened his eyes, rays of light streaming from above and painting the area around him in bright shades of colour.

Entering stasis without manual effort was impossible. It was a fact that Connor had been certain of until very recently. And yet he found himself standing in the garden, pristine and bright in its entirely fake construction – a cool spring air ruffling through his hair and through fabricated trees, carrying flower petals on the wind that would disintegrate into miniscule pixels as soon as they reached the edge of the garden’s confines. Everything was as it should have been, as if it hadn’t been snowed in and in the centre of a violent snowstorm not a month earlier.

The experience was…jarring.

 ~~Paranoia~~ – _sensible caution_ – lead Connor to be alert and on guard, mentally scanning the garden for the image of Amanda, the icon of a dead woman. The absence of his old mentor only served to settle Connor by a miniscule amount.

**WHY?**

The words floated before him, a visualisation of his own confusion finding it’s way into his mental paradise – what was intended to be a mental paradise anyway. Since the snowstorm that has gripped the area during Amanda’s attempted hacking attempt the ‘zen’ of ‘zen garden’ had lost it’s sentiment. It left him feeling exposed. Jittery. Concerned. She wasn't someone Connor ever wanted to have to deal with again.

**BUT AMANDA IS GONE.**

**HER CODE WAS SCRATCHED FROM YOUR OWN CODE. YOU CHECKED.**

Connor accepted his own logic and felt his shoulders fall slightly and his stance shift. _Why am I here?_ The thought didn’t appear in large cyberlife sans font this time. He waited a second, expecting some form of reply from his own internal program. When none came he sighed, an entirely human action he noted, before resigning himself to wander the garden, quickly settling for leaning on the railing of a bridge and watching the surface of the water below, alone in his garden. He liked the water, there was a peace to it, something about the constant flow of it. And there were fish, like the one he had saved a month ago. The memory of that first software instability inducing action calmed him slightly. He really had come to like fish since then, the memory made the animal important. 

He turned his thoughts closer to the present.

_What was the last thing that happened? A night in with Hank. We were watching films, there was a closeness to the situation, a closeness between the two of them and intimacy – Hank fell asleep eventually._

**YOU FELL ASLEEP TOO.**

Connor blinked, surprised at the words appearance, it was another entirely unneeded and illogical action -  he was inside his own conscious,  blinking did not shut off one’s own mind. He hadn’t expected his programming to answer him, the whole situation making him question what he was replying to – and how paradoxical a conversation with oneself was.

**HUMANS DO IT FREQUENTLY. SEE >> INNER/INTERNAL MONOLOGUE > MONOLOGIC INTERNAL SPEECH INVOLVES THE ACTIVATION OF THE SUPERIOR TEMPORAL GYRUS AND THE LEFT INFERIOR FRONTAL GYRUS – NOT ENTIRELY APPLICABLE IN RK800 SERIES ANDROID.**

Connor almost laughed at his own programming stating the obvious before realising that it was in a way saying what Hank had regularly – Connor was still becoming more human by the day, deviancy was evolving and adapting. _And now I’ve just powered down without manual activation of stasis – suggested reason?_

**RELAXATION. SAFETY. SECURITY. FEELINGS OF-**

_Stop._ The words stopped scrolling. _If I’m in stasis then I should be able to simply awaken?_

**THEORY STATUS – PLAUSIBLE.**

_Okay then. Cancel stasis._

Connor took one last glance to the rippling surface which perfectly reflected the warm sunlight above, appreciating the accuracy and beauty of the simulation, before he closed his eyes.

And the water was gone.

\---

He opened his eyes to the darkness of Hank’s house and on instinct – or more likely as a result of ingrained programming he would never fully be capable of leaving behind him – he scanned his surroundings instantly. He adjusted the lenses that made up his eyes in order to allow for better dark vision and checked his internal clock. 4:17AM. Hank was to his side, asleep – and Connor himself was leaning into him, head pillowed on one of Hank’s broad shoulders. And he wasn’t inclined to move from that position. Any remaining unease that remained from his short visit to the garden and from allowing himself to fall into stasis faded away as he stayed close to Hank, perfectly content to be doing nothing for once. No need for action. 

Until he caught sight of a pertinent police report. The DPD’s reports scrolled almost constantly at the side of his HUD, and the majority were of little importance to Connor. He catalogued whether they were urgent and close by and whether he and Hank were required to attend, and then they were dismissed. But one particular report caught his attention.

ANDROID ATTACKED – DRAINED OF BLUE BLOOD – SAME MO AS PREVIOUS – LT. ANDERSON TO BE INFORMED AND REQUESTED IN MORNING.

That made Connor sit up, at a speed which disturbed Hank who snorted slightly as he left his sleeping state and blinked rapidly to wake himself.

“Huh? What? Connor?” A number of half formed sentences and thoughts tumbled from Hank’s mouth. Connor felt him sit up from his slouched position on the sofa and lean forward, resting his forearms on his knees in order to bring himself to a point where he could look at Connor’s face from where he had sat bolt upright, “Hey, Conn? You okay? Your light’s red.” A large hand came to rest on Connor’s knee, “Conn?”

“There’s been another one.” Connor could hear the defeat in his own voice, the melancholy.

“Another android victim?”

“Yes.” The word came out flat.

“Shit.”

“I need to fix this. I’m going to the station.” Connor made a move to stand from the sofa when Hank’s heavy hand pulled him back.

“Hey, hey. The fuck do you mean? What do you mean _you’re_ gonna fix this, you ain’t doing it alone.”

“I need to do it, I am owe it to Jericho, I must-“

“You don’t need to do shit on your own, you aren’t doin’ shit on your own. I’m coming with you. We are gonna fix this, we’re gonna get these shit’s together and we’re gonna be a fuckin’ team. You got it?” Hank was staring straight into Connor’s eyes, even in the dark room (Connor belatedly realised that his eyes gave off a small amount of light and that, combined with the red LED at his temple, was how Hank had managed to make eye contact effectively). He wasn’t certain whether it was his words, or the hand that was still resting on him, that convinced him that Hank was to be believed but he found himself easily nodding and agreeing with the human.

“When it was reported it was advised that you be contacted in the morning when your shift starts.” Connor relayed the information, “I’m going in now to get a head start. I’ll fill you in when you arri-“

“Again with the ‘I’. If you’re going in right now, I’m coming with. Just give me a minute to get ready, yeah? You got that level of patience?” There was a note of determination to his voice that made it clear that this was not a point that Hank was willing to be argued with on.

“Of course, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Hank stood up and felt his way around the couch and started walking toward his bedroom, “Oh and Connor?”

“Yes?” He turned to face the man.

“You aware your eyes are glowing a creepy fuckin’ red? It’s fucked up. Can you, sorta, not do that?” Hank waved a hand in circles in the air as if to emphasise his point. Connor had to try not to laugh.

“You’re opinion has been noted, Lieutenant.” He couldn’t prevent the smile from making it into his voice.

“Fuckin’ androids.” Hank gave a final curse before walking away.

\---

They arrived at the precinct before it hit 5AM. The place was quiet, only the graveyard shift staff milling about and even then the air was still dead. Connor had interfaced with his console at his desk as soon as he walked in and gathered the case data that had been recovered so far and had rapidly relayed the information to Hank.

“The same traces of evidence were present at this scene, Hank. I’m certain that the perpetrators are at this warehouse. I need to investigate the area.”

“The fuck you are!” Hank raised his voice above his usual volume, “That’s fucking dangerous, Connor, and you gotta know it. Besides, we haven’t been cleared for it, you heard Fowler, we gotta wait till it’s all cleared before we can get in there.”

“We don’t have the time!” Connor found his own voice raising to match Hank’s, “They have just returned from an attack, their guard will be down. Everything suggests that they are definitively anti-android. Following a successful murder they will be elated, proud of their work. Their guard will be down for the next couple of hours. This is our chance to investigate – I’m not suggesting that I storm in but I can be discreet. I can investigate from the edges, they won’t notice my presence. I’ll be able to learn more!”

“Connor, stop it! I know I said I’d be with you on this but this is reckless and dangerous! You can’t be certain that they’ll be too distracted to see you sneaking about. I don’t care if you’re an android with super fucking programming, you’re not a damned cat burglar! Not to mention if Fowler finds out you’ll be in for it!”

“Then make sure he doesn’t find out.” The sentence came out calmer than Connor felt. Hank’s shoulders fell and the aggression faded to confusion, taken aback by the statement.

“What?”

“Make sure he doesn’t find out. Ensure that no one does.”

“Connor, what the fuck are you suggesting?”

“That you stay here. Find out what you can and work on convincing the right people to weigh the situation our way. You know the officers we will need to work with on the drug squad, and you have a history with Fowler. You have the best predicted possibilities of succeeding in speeding up this investigation. While you work here, I will scout the suspected area and provide much needed further evidence. The chances of being noticed are within acceptable parameters. This is the fastest way to further the case.”

“Conn, you’re being fuckin’ stupid. You’re being blinded by your own damn guilt and your ambition to get this done! You can’t go in there alone, and I’m shit at people. You can’t seriously believe that I can help matters on this?” Hank had raised to his full height again.

Connor’s negotiation modules told him plainly how to succeed in this encounter. A near perfect calculation of an advantageous percentage if he was just willing to use Hank’s seeming inability to resist Connor’s innocent look. He knew that Cyberlife had designed the RK800 model to integrate and to soothe when necessary, and also to be capable of intimidating. His ability to soothe and to sway a victim or suspect into talking was one which was tested extensively. It’s why he acted as such a successful negotiator. And why he knew that he would be able to sway Hank very easily in this interaction. Even if for some reason it did feel wrong to do so.

Connor returned to the present, mere fractions of a second having passed while he calculated his answer.

“Of course I believe you can help me fix this, you told me yourself we were together on this,” Connor blinked slowly, a measured action that felt like manipulation – _it is manipulation_ – but it was necessary for his mission. He had to protect the androids he had hurt so much. “I won’t put myself in any unnecessary danger.”

Hank let out a long sigh and sagged, “You promise you won’t get yourself hurt out there?”

“I will do my best.”

“That ain’t what I fuckin’ asked, Connor.”

“I promise. It’s statistically unlikely that this will go wrong.” _But unlikely events can still occur_ , he added silently.

A number of expressions flashed over Hank’s face, only lasting for a split second each and making him look torn and undecided before he finally sighed again.

“Alright. Fine. But you can’t be hanging around for too long. Get a look, confirm your suspicion, then get out. Don’t take any unnecessary risks. And call me as soon as you’re leaving.”

“Got it.” Connor smiled softly, and pretended it still didn’t hurt him a little inside that he had used his negotiation software on Hank, used the same thing he had called inappropriate just over 12 hours ago – _used it on someone he cared about._

“Take my car, it’s unmarked. Shouldn’t be noticed too easily.” Hank handed over the keys, “Just for chrissakes be careful.”

Connor let their hands touch for longer than necessary as he took the outstretched key, “I will.”

\---

It was a relatively short drive across Ambassador Bridge and into one of the many industrial districts that lined the Detroit River to get to his location on Abbott Street. And the evidence practically handed itself over to Connor.

He had parked the car a block away, semi hidden in an alley coated in snow and ice – the best possible choice. At this time of the morning in Detroit’s still half deserted state it would be safe enough there and out of view. From there it was a short walk to the warehouse that had once been raided by the Red Ice Taskforce that Hank had been a part of years ago. Evidence of blue blood was visible even outside of the building. Three cars (licence plates, tire treads and car model logged as evidence instantly) were parked outside of the structure, every one of them with remnants of blue blood that Connor’s vision highlighted on the vehicle itself – mostly on door handles and the boot of the cars. Logical, considering that even with the meticulous method that they had taken to siphoning thirium it would still be impossible to avoid any contact with the hands. He didn’t stop to sample the blood, not willing to break the promise he had made to Hank and linger for too long. He was aware of how risky his actions at present were, even if the risks were within acceptable parameters. But then, the acceptable parameters were set at around 60% of success where Connor’s own life was concerned. If it were Hank’s life at risk then the acceptable parameters would sit at a far higher necessity of 92% success. Hank’s life was more important than Connor’s own, that was simply a fact for Connor. And it had been for some time, since he had opted to save Hank from falling off of the ledge while chasing Rupert than accomplishing his mission. Since he had thrown himself in front of Hank and shielded him from the spray of bullets in Stratford Tower, even meaning his own death. Connor hadn’t required deviancy to find Hank important, that seemed to transcend the limits of programming.

Connor had been careful sneaking inside, all systems on high alert and power directed to processing speed and heightened sensory input wherever possible. By the sounds of it Connor had been correct, they appeared to be celebrating a job well done. He could discern 5 separate heartbeats with ease in the location he could hear the voices coming from and with the help of his prototype technology succeeded in marking their location even through walls, homing in on voice and heart rate and matching it to schematics of the building. He lurked close to the edges as he moved, attempting to find just one more piece of evidence. If he could locate either red ice itself or a supply of blue blood then that would be enough for Connor to return to Hank happy that he could push the investigation further. A counter at the left edge of his vision tracked his calculated likelihood of being discovered and consequently killed.

**17%**

Initially he had intended on finding more, but the further he walked through the building and the closer he heard the voices of the attackers that he knew had been murdering androids – likely more than had actually been located and reported – the more he felt an uncomfortable need to turn around. To leave and abandon the mission and return to Hank and that sofa that he had awoken on lying close to him. Deviants can feel fear. And Connor cursed that. 

The warehouse had an open floor in the centre that he knew of from the site plans. By his approximation the men weren’t in the open central area but rather in a smaller room just off the centre room. Connor himself was slowly staking his way around a corridor on the adjacent side of the building with a number of rooms lined along his side. To his annoyance all of the rooms were empty or the ones that did have anything in them were of no use as evidence. Simply boxes of old stock or abandoned papers that were years out of date, seemingly never cleared out of the warehouse.  Every room that came up empty forced him to travel further into the building and closer to the main room and the suspects – and in turn away from his exit. The probability counter continued to stare back at him with it’s warnings.

**29%**

He was leafing through a box of documents when his auditory sensors registered a new presence. His back straightened ramrod straight in the space of a second as a sixth heartbeat was registered inside of the building. He stilled unnaturally, systems straining to listen. The sixth suspect who had just arrived in the door that Connor had come from would have to walk down the corridor and past the room Connor was currently hiding in.

**39%**

The probability was on the edge of no longer acceptable risk. He flattened himself silently to the wall by the door frame, ensuring he would remain out of sight should the man glance inside the room. If he chose to look inside however then Connor doubted that he could deal with the issue silently enough as to not alert the others. And while he could deal with the five remaining suspects it would damage the case – and possibly his job. The whole issue would be thrown against androids, it could go awfully, it would be- I’m being paranoid. I need to focus.

He carefully measured the man’s steps as he approached. He walked past each door leisurely. Slowly closing the gap between him and Connor.

**44%**

The probability was well outside of acceptable margins. He had to leave as soon as possible. If Connor hadn’t already disabled his breathing simulation he would have held his breath. Even then the urge to hold it was present.

**10 yards away. 5 yards. 3.**

The sixth presence passed without issue.

“Hey, a fuckin’ car came over the bridge like 10 minutes ago. Which one of you went for a fucking joyride before coming back? I thought I told you fucks not to piss around!” The Sixth man was barely passed Connor’s room as he began to shout, Connor traced the sound and followed his path as he moved out of the corridor and through a wide door way into the open warehouse floor.

“We didn’t fucking fuck off! You’re the one who wanted to fuck off and find a slut to grab!” The five suspects Connor had previously tagged the location of moved from whatever small office or side room they had been in. He didn’t want to look at his chances of getting out safely.

“The fuck is it about the blue shit that makes you want to fuck so bad?”

“Getting’ rid of these tin cans is a cause for celebration! Burn the lot of the bastards!”

Connor cursed silently. _I found what I can, I need to leave._ _Now._

Fear drove him to peel himself away from the wall he had plastered himself against and sprint back the way he had come from, functions working to move as quickly and quietly as possible. The numbers hovering at the edge of his vision had long since changed font colour from white to red even if he refused to acknowledge what the number displayed actually was.

Stepping out into the early morning grey he saw the new car parked by the three others. Automatically he logged its details and high tailed it to Hank’s car, glad to be outside and safe, away from android murderers. _I really was scared._

The walk back was short and true to his word he called Hank as soon as he was inside the vehicle and starting the engine. He saw his own LED flicker yellow in the dim light of the car, reflected back at him in the rear view mirror. The human picked up almost immediately.

“Connor?”

“I’m fine, Hank.” He shifted the outdated car into drive and made his way out of the frozen alley he had parked in and back onto the main roads.

“Thank fuck. Fuckin’ A’ Conn, I was getting worried.” Connor hadn’t needed to be informed of that, he had been able to hear the worry and subsequent relief in the man’s voice, “Meet me at the park, by Ambassador Bridge, yeah?”

“Is everything alright?”

“What? Yeah, its fine. Just, maybe we shouldn’t talk about the fact you just went to a scene without permission in the precinct.”

“A fair point.” Connor gave a small hummed laugh. The pressure – _fear_ – that had been steadily mounting while he had been inside the warehouse faded as he listened to Hank talk.

“I spoke to the people you said to, seems that I got ‘em on our side as far as possible. The drug cops that stuck around during the revolution are all ones I worked close with – either that or they look up to me after the work I did years ago on the taskforce.”

“Of course they do, youngest officer to make lieutenant, incredible advancements in Red Ice cases. There’s no need to sound surprised at people looking up to you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s fuckin’ weird. Now hurry the fuck up. It’s cold as fuck out here.”

“Coming, Lieutenant.” Connor smiled as he severed the connection just as he brought the car onto the bridge.

_Hank relaxes me. Security, safety, intimacy, safe enough to fall asleep. Perhaps I should have listened to whatever program acts as my subconscious in the Zen Garden. Perhaps I should talk to Hank, maybe-_

He caught sight of the vehicle behind him at the last second – having been previously too distracted talking to Hank to have seen the car tailing him. Cyberlife advanced prototype processing power seemed to mean nothing when he was talking to Hank. And he would pay for it.

The dark car rammed into the back of Connor, knocking the vehicle askew on the road. Perfectly written protocols for driving kicked into action, instructing him how much to brake, to turn the wheel to-

The car had come along side and rammed from the different direction and Connor felt the car jerk violently, the impact accompanied by a screech of metal.

Connor felt the wheels of Hank’s car skid on the icy road – untreated and untouched for weeks. Connor was programmed to be capable of driving, to be good at it, to know how to handle weather conditions. To be able to do whatever was possible to keep control of a car. Attempting to accelerate away quickly would only cause the wheels to spin on the ice, he would lose control. Breaking would allow the wheels to skid dangerously. He would be entirely at his attackers mercy. It wouldn't take a hard hit to knock him back. The possibilities and options spun faster than the LED at his temple. 

Little of it mattered when the wheels spun and slid again, losing traction at the exact moment that the attacking vehicle made contact again. A belated response informed Connor that this car was one of the vehicles parked outside of the warehouse – the vehicle that hadn’t been present when he had first entered. At the same time as that evidence was reported, as was the report of a minor system error caused by blunt force trauma of being rattled around in a car.

_Pressure. Fear. Again. It almost hurt. Impossible. Androids don’t feel pain._

He continued to fight with the wheel and the brakes and the accelerator as the other car held the control and shoved further.

_I’m afraid. I don’t want to die. I can’t die, I need to-_

When he heard the crunch he knew what it was. The railing on the bridge giving way, his programming being incapable of getting him out of this situation, being bested by a human despite his superior intellect, the knowledge that he had been so close to the other side of the damn bridge. That Hank was sitting waiting for him.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to not process what was happening.

It was hard to ignore the windscreen shattering, or the water as it flooded the car instantly. It wasn’t a car anymore however, rather an anchor. He was belted into an anchor. A cold anchor. _So very cold._ An error popped into his vision warning of his rapidly dropping temperature. Processing speeds slowed to a crawl in the space of a second, everything slowed by the cold.

Like the garden had been before, freezing, paralysing.

 

 

It was cold and dark when he opened his eyes, pale muted moonlight came from above and stained the area around him in sickly shades of colour.

He was back in the garden, he knew. He wanted to move but it was impossible, he was stuck lying on his back and watching the sky. The garden was swallowed by a blizzard like it was weeks before. Snow lay piled on his limbs, burying him, leaving him unable to move, only capable of watching the fabricated snowflakes fall from above and slowly smother him.

He blinked. The garden was gone. The sky was gone.

 

The water, suffocating in it's closeness, was back. Fully submerged the pressure of fear was unbearable. His synthetic lungs had filled with water, speeding up his decent further into the depths of the water.  He was sinking. At some point he had succeeded in removing the belt which tied him to the metal, sinking anchor that was once a car. _Had he still been functioning while in the garden?_

_Did it matter?_

It was too cold.

Error warnings turned his vision scarlet. Androids were never intended to survive in this temperature. Too many biocomponents were failing. Too many. Too cold.

Sinking, he watched the surface of the water above, _alone._  

He glanced to the rippling surface which reflected the light of the bridge above.

And he closed his eyes.

 And the water was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . .  
>  Hi. Well. That was fun. You didn't think I was talking about how water proof androids are a couple chapters ago for no reason, did you? Or that I made a thing way back at their first reunion since the revolution about Hank refusing to be killed by slipping on ice? I have been wanting to write this for a while. I really hope I wrote it well enough.
> 
> So, anyway. Send your death threats and hate mail in the comments or to @redbutterflies-blueeyes on Tumblr (the freakin' dying hellsite that it is) Seriously tho guys, please tell me if you enjoyed - I want to know! I don't care if you just keyboard smash a comment - that tells me a lot and I'll love it lol  
> Tell me if you enjoyed it/if you want me dead now. I'll answer either way. Unless you ask for my address. I don't want people with pitchforks at my door.  
> Cya next chapter, and remember - Hank was at the park watching the bridge and most definitely saw all that. I'll let that fester in your brains till next time.


	18. Benumbed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benumbed  
> adj. 1. To have been made numb, especially by cold.  
> 2\. To have been rendered senseless or inactive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to say - I don't exactly advise jumping into freezing cold rivers, dont try it.  
> Having said that, I have jumped into multiple lochs (Scottish lakes) in winter, and in the city I study it's a thing for people to run into the river on new years (look up Scotland's Loony Dook if you're curious)

Hank had been a Detroit born and raised cop his whole life.

He wished he could say that this was the first time he had seen a car go off into the Detroit River.

He wished he could say that this was the first time he had seen a car lose control on the ice – but that would be a huge fucking lie.

Most of all, Hank Anderson _really_   fucking wished he hadn’t recognised the beat up car that was swallowed quickly by the dark water of the river.

Hank barely thought before running towards the water that he knew would be ice cold – but frankly it didn’t matter – not if Connor’s life was at stake. It couldn’t be any colder than the fear that held his chest like a vice grip.

\---

“You forgot what he was didn’t you?” Markus’ bicoloured eyes were soft and kind as he handed over another blanket, Hank was starting to see how he had succeeded in becoming saviour to androids. Markus also seemed to have a spectacular ability for mind reading, because he was right.

“Fine, I forgot he wasn’t human for a moment, sue me. I just needed to get him out the water.”

“I’m not judging you. You did the right thing, Connor’s construction means-“

“Look I’m sorry but I don’t fucking want to hear his technical shit like he’s a fucking iPhone. I want to see him and know he’s okay!” He snapped, harsher than Markus really deserved but he was cold and wet and, fuck, he was really fucking scared.

He  had dragged Connor from the water, thankful to any and all gods that were willing to listen that despite the unresponsive dead weight Connor had been when Hank grabbed him, he had managed to get out of the sinking vehicle and wasn’t far from the surface. He hadn’t gotten any response from him the whole rushed car ride to Jericho – Hank never thought he would be glad for the invention of self-driving cars, he had never trusted the things but if it let him sit with Connor while still getting them where they needed to be then he couldn’t complain. He had been checking for a pulse and panicking at his failure to find one before he even remembered what Connor was.

_He had his finger pressed to Connor’s neck, jumping at the lack of anything before he remembered, before he saw the smallest smudge of blue on the man’s – android’s -  lip. What had even happened? Could he drown?No, surely. Lack of oxygen surely couldn’t damage an android?  Was he just a fried mobile phone? Water logged circuits? Corrupted files? That Nokia phone he had dropped in a bucket of water in the 2000s? Somehow he doubted putting Connor in a giant tub of rice would work.  “Fuck, androids. Shit why didn’t ask you whether you were water proof. Come on, Conn, wake up now.” He stared down at the cold and drenched body, holding Connor’s head in his lap. The circle of light at the side of his head was still on, flickering red but only dully. Perhaps that was the pulse that he had been looking for. He distantly registered the siren sound of the automatic police car they were in. God, it all felt too horribly familiar, like the last car accident he had been in. Fuck. Shit. Why Connor? He promised to stay safe. “Come on, Conn. You promised me you’d be okay, you better make good on that.” The deserted streets passed by and he could only watch helplessly. He’d have no hope helping Connor, he was reliant on Jericho. Fuck his life had changed in the past few months._

“We’re doing what we can. Androids are waterproof but never intended to survive low temperatures. Simon is working on him, think of it like repairing organs in surgery. I’m sure you can understand why I can’t let you see him.” Markus kept his voice quiet and kind, ignoring Hank’s outburst, “You don’t want to see him like that.”

Hank was preparing another string of venomous words that Markus didn’t deserve when there was a knock at the door. A woman – an android woman – with long hair and dark eyes entered.

“Markus, Simon needs you.”

“Thank you, North. I’ll be back when-“

“Is it Connor?” Hank stood up sharply, ill-fitting clothes that he hadn’t questioned the origin of clinging to him, his skin still irritatingly damp. Markus hand laid carefully on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

“Please, just wait here.”

And they were both gone, leaving Hank alone in the room. He wasn’t even certain who’s room he had been bundled into. As soon as the car had arrived at the New Jericho buildings they had split Connor up from Hank. The whole place felt fucking freezing – maybe it was just the fact he had been in the river an hour ago. The place was always cold though, every time he had been here before for the case it had been cold. He hadn’t seen the actual room that Jericho’s charges lived in though. They were always in common areas or what were originally some form of lobby. Now he was in a painfully bland room, grey white walls and concrete floors. It wasn’t dissimilar to being in a hospital waiting room really.  He could remember waiting for the news of Cole, could remember it with a painful accuracy. Thinking about it now, it wasn’t the same stab of guilt and pain that it used to be. But it still left an undeniable ache. Still left him bolting upright in bed after nightmares that pulled him back to that white room, a blue painting on the wall to his right, the horrible news as a nurse walked through the door, seeing Cole’s cold body. The whole memory too vivid, just as he knew this would be too. Whether the worse happened or whether he got to leave with Connor he could tell this would all be another nightmare to haunt his nights.

It made him physically shudder to think of. If he lost Connor like he lost Cole – fuck, he didn’t think he’d be able to make it till Christmas. Not knowing he had never had the chance to tell Connor– fuck, he needed Connor to live. Needed to tell him how much he cared. More than he should, more than advisable, more than he had wanted at first.

_Connor should never have been alone, I shouldn’t have let him go. I should have been in that car, fuck it should have been me not him. He’s only just started to live, really. He was ambitious_.

It was quiet for another hour or so. It was torture.

“Lieutenant,” Hank jumped at the voice, “You can see him if you want. We’re about to reactivate him.” A blond android that Hank could vaguely remember Connor having mentioned as being the Simon that had apparently been working on Connor. Or at least, Hank assumed so. The fact that all androids that weren’t Markus and Connor had many doppelgangers meant that Hank had a horrible fear of mistaking one for another. But that wasn’t his primary concern.

He followed probably-Simon without hesitation, only slightly flinching when he recognized a blue dye on the androids fingers as being thirium. As it was Connor was apparently taken to the top floor of the derelict building. The android from before, North, was leaning on a wall – a distinct scowl on her face as Hank passed. He ignored her.

 

Connor was lying on a bed that looked long past its best, looking just as lifeless as he had before, LED on his head still flickering a weak red. No longer with his shirt on, instead with his stomach open as Hank had seen Connor do to the Traci at the Eden Club. Markus was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand holding Connor’s own. He looked up at the Lieutenant’s hasty approach as Hank all but dived to grab Connor’s other hand.

“Lieutenant,” he gave a slight nod, “We’re confident Connor will be okay when we bring him back online. I should warn you that he may find the experience jarring. It’s similar to waking up in hospital, in human terms.”

“Done that enough times.” Hank muttered darkly, “Please just bring him back, I need to be able to hear him. He looks too dead like this. No offense, but androids can be a little disturbing in stasis.”

“In this particular form of stasis even I find it disturbing, don’t worry.” Markus offered a weak smile, looking less like an immovable object who led a revolution and a lot more like a scared human, “Okay, Simon, stay on standby, we’ll find out quickly if the pump repair has taken – we may still need to-“

“I know, Markus. It’s fine, I’m right here. Connor will be fine.” Simon hovered behind Markus, attentive to the situation at hand.

Markus murmured something under his breath before he laid two fingers on Connor’s LED, the skin on Markus hand retracting to reveal the white chassis beneath.

Hank found himself holding his breath.

\---

The garden was wrong, so very wrong. It wasn’t frozen over any more, it wasn’t cold like it had been before. It was a different cold.

Connor was aware that he was weightless, as if he were floating, neither falling nor rising. It took longer than it should have for Connor to recognise the way that the leaves on the trees defied any form of gravity, the way that they would float upwards past him, up to a shimmering surface that drew diamond-like patterns of light.

_Underwater. I’m underwater. I sank, I crashed, I – I am underwater. Not just in the garden, no, wait – It happened out there, I need to move, I need to-_

He tried to move his limbs, tried to swim upwards to the surface that he could see above him but they didn’t cooperate.

“Come on, Conn, you promised me you’d be okay.” Hank’s voice drifted through his thoughts.

Connor tried to answer, tried to move, to do anything to let him know he could hear him. Nothing happened.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he floated there, unmoving, a cold that chilled his thirium being a constant reminder of why he was there. He fell, he made a mistake and he paid the price and he fell and he drowned and it was cold – _fuck - why is it so cold_ – and he broke his promise to Hank-

“Connor, wake up,” The suddenness of the voice in the watery silence would have made him jump if he were capable. He recognised the voice as Markus’. He felt the water that suspended him ripple, he felt as if he were being tugged by a current, and he closed his eyes.

-

**\- MODEL RK800**

**SERIAL #313 248 317-52**

**-REBOOT…**

**LOADING OS…**

**SYSTEM INITIALIZATION…**

**-CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… OK**

**-INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… OK**

**-INITIALIZING AI ENGINE… OK**

**-MEMORY STATUS… CORRUPTION**

**SUGGESTED: CONTACT NEAREST CYBERLIFE REPRESENTATIVE FOR MEMORY RECONSTRUCTION**

** \- UNKNOWN SEVERITY OF INFORMATION LOST **

**READY…**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup. That's another chapter down - see look! I didn't leave you on that cliff hanger from last chapter for _too_ long. Ain't I nice? Truly lovely, eh?
> 
>  
> 
> Coming away from that, the Loony Dook (for people who don't know scots and don't understand 'loony dook' means lunatic's dip/lunatic's bathe) really is a bizarre thing to see but it's fun. It's a big part of Hogmanay (new years celebration) in Edinburgh. Equally fun is jumping in a very cold Scottish lake then walking ten minutes uphill to your holiday camp. but bloody hell it's cold. I felt cold for Hank and Connor writing this chapter, really I did.  
> I'm sure that freezing dip in the river won't help Connor's fear of the cold - if he remember's that is...  
> Till next time - which shouldn't be too far away, cya (｡^‿^｡)


	19. Evancalous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evancalous  
> Adj. Pleasant to embrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't gonna leave you with that cliff hangar before xmas  
> (I haven't even vaguely proof read this - like I haven't even skim read this, this is how it was written and I have done 0 editing - I'm so sorry for mistakes)

Connor’s eyelids fluttered first, revealing not the large dark irises that hank had expected to see but rather a black and blue approximation of an eye. Vaguely it reminded him of a couple of android victims that had been recovered or kept down in evidence from before the revolution. The similarity to what he had so far only seen on corpses didn’t help the nerves and the clench in his chest that was already present.

He watched with bated breath as it seemed to take a second for the rest of Connor to come back to consciousness. Within a few seconds he jolted, the open panel exposing his inner workings on his abdomen closed, the hand beneath Hank’s own tightening into a fist quickly and pulling back. He tried not to be offended by that. But that was quickly replaced when he noticed he had done the same and pulled away from Markus’ hand on his head, had pulled himself completely back and against the headboard of the bed.

“Connor?” Concern laced Markus’ tone.

“Where did I-? I was…somewhere, I think I – did I sink? I thought I was-? But I have no-? Where am I?” Hank watched as Connor’s head whipped from side to side as if looking for something, eyes still unnatural black and blue – nothing like the brown eyes he was accustomed to.  “I can’t see…” There was a cold note of fear in his voice and he could see the red of his LED, which was at least spinning a steady colour instead of the weak pulse it had been previously. The string of unfinished statements was just so un-Connor-like. It was disturbing and honestly a bit terrifying.

“Conn? You can’t- Markus?” Hank swallowed hard, hoping it may make it easier to breathe, everything seeming too wrong.

“I-? Simon is this?” Markus was still concerned as he turned around to the blond behind him.

“Just let me-, Connor, reset connection to biocomponent #3874f. There was no damage to your optics so it must be a reboot issue.” Simon half mused to himself, Hank wasn’t entirely sure about the way android biology was spoken about, something about designating serial numbers and rebooting and shit – honestly he would feel a little queasy if it weren’t for the greater issue at hand. That issue being namely Connor.

He watched as Connor stayed pushed back against the solid headboard and wall behind him and closed his eyes, LED spinning yellow for one cycle before eyes fluttered open looking far more human, brown irises back. The LED quickly returned back to red.

“I still can’t remember where I am. How did I get here, where am I? I- it was cold?” A tremor began in Connor’s hands, he looked down at them as if not understanding what was happening to them. _Well, he wouldn’t, would he? I had to explain why his hands were shaking after the hostage shit after we met back up._

“Conn? What don’t you remember? Wait- shit, that doesn’t work. What _do_ you remember?” Hank risked moving his hand towards Connor, reaching out to try and touch him, to take his hand - anything.

“I was doing something – I needed to be there, and there was a car, I saw- In the rear view, I was too late, I had been distracted talking to- to someone? And then- I went off the bridge… I froze, did I-?” The tremor had travelled from his hands to a full body shake, “Did I die?”

“Connor,” Markus’ voice sounded low and concerned, but with an overtone that was intended to calm, “You need to calm down now, you’re allowing yourself to become too stressed.” Markus reached his hand forward, copying hank’s movement. If Connor hadn’t noticed Hank move, he definitely noticed Markus move, his whole form curling in on itself and making him look smaller than he was.

“I died, I felt myself die… It was cold, like ice and I- Who was I talking to?! Why can’t I remember!” Connor’s voice turned shrill, scared and loud and panicked. It hurt Hank to hear.

“Connor, you really must calm down.” Simon’s voice chimed in from behind. Connor didn’t appear to react positively, scrambling off of the bed and back against the wall, slowly moving closer to a corner of the room with rA9 scratched into the paint. “Markus, if he doesn’t calm down then-“

“I know.”

“Then what? What will-“ It took Hank a moment too long to draw the connection, “Wait, stress. He’ll-?” _Self-destruct. Like the first android that Connor interrogated on his first day in the station. Like the android Jennifer had, she had painted the ceiling blue of that house when she became mentally unstable_ , “Shit. Let me-“ _I need to do something, surely I can help a bit_. He moved around to the side of the bed that Markus, Simon and Connor were on, pushing the two Jericho leaders back so that he could kneel infront of Connor.

He looked so painfully scared and helpless and lost – fuck, Hank just wanted to hug him.

“You were talking to me Connor, you were on the phone to me. Can you remember who I am?”

-

Half-formed memory fragments and red warnings flashed through Connor’s vision. Static had begun building up at the edges of his vision at some point. A counter highlighted in crimson red and flashing rapidly for attention had steadily been increasing in number. He couldn’t tell what it was trying to tell him, all of the words weren’t truly words. Symbols replaced letters intermittently, missing information that couldn’t be deciphered.

It was all too much, he could feel his processors trying to piece everything back together but it was as if he was running too slow internally to keep up.

He was cold and scared and hurt and androids couldn’t be scared – _no but deviants can_. Yes he was deviant, he had broken through the red wall- _wait, where did that memory fragment come from and-_

“Conn, please, look at me. Don’t give up on me, fuck, please don’t.”

He followed the voice, looking up from his shaking hands in his lap and up into blue eyes, wide and watery and- _crying?_

A handful of red warning tabs faded, replaced by white words by the man’s face.

** /@9K  **

“I know you…” Connor couldn’t remember the name but he could remember the man. Grey hair that was a mess more often and not – not that he could recall having any memories to base that analysis off of but he could see flashes of previous instances, a club with bright light, a meeting in the snow in an abandoned street at an underpass, a number of instances at a house he couldn't quite remember. A beard that looked uneven and as if it hadn’t been trimmed in some time. He looked worse for wear now than he did in those flashes of images. He still seemed to soothe Connor’s systems in a way he couldn’t fully understand, but he was grateful for the fading prominence of red in his peripheral.

“Yeah, have done for a while now. You’ve been living at my house for a month or so, I know you pretty well.” The man offered a weak smile, one of his hands slowly coming closer to Connor’s own shaking ones.

He didn’t flinch back, instead watching the offending limb. The knuckles were bruised, purple and red mottled marks against the skin. He tilted his head, a realisation that he had seen the bruising before. He let the man take his hands in his own, letting the bruised hands hold his own shaking ones. The tremor stilled.

_‘You’ve damaged your right hand, possibly your wrist. I thought a Lieutenant would know how to throw a straight punch. Why did you instigate a fight with the detective? I hope it was for a better reason than him calling me a piece of Lego.’_

_‘You didn’t hear the shit he was spouting about you, Connor. He was talking about burning you!’_

_The man’s voice became harsher, he didn’t react. Only wiped away blood from small cuts and was sure to rub as gently as he could at the damaged skin, aiming to clean but also to comfort and soothe. Calming the lieutenant was something he was good at._

The memory was tainted by rough static and the colour muted but it was there. The memory of the two of them in a bathroom as Connor washed blood from bruised and cut hands.

“What happened doesn’t matter, Conn. Just calm down, I’m right here.” The lieutenant, as Connor could now remember him to be continued to move closer.

** H@NK **

There were bruises on his face as well, focussed largely on one side and partially hidden by facial hair.

_He wet a paper towel, flimsy creations and not exactly up to medical standards, but it was enough to clean away the blood._

_‘Hold still, this will likely sting,’ the man flinched all the same, pulling back two separate times, ‘I did ask you to be still for a reason,’ He smiled, it was becoming far easier to smile at him. Since the night before on the sofa, the way they had been close, been domestic. Since he had realised the extent of his feelings for Hank. He brought his hand to the side of Hank’s face that wasn’t bloodied, holding gently while he wiped at the blood. They’re probably too close, he’s probably letting himself get too distracted by feelings only he has. He kept smiling anyway, focussed entirely on fixing Hank’s injuries – however minor._

** HANK **

Connor’s programming finally clicked the memories to the face, recognised who was there kneeling in front of him, holding his hands.

“Hank?” Connor felt himself blink a couple of times, each time another garbled line of code deciphered itself. Warnings and red labels suddenly made sense. He read the error reports from when he had first rebooted to now.

**> REBOOTED**

**OPTICS OFFLINE**

**TEMPERATURE: BELOW OPTIMAL**

**> RECCOMENDED ACTION: RAISE INTERNAL TEMPERATURE**

**> RISK OF THIRIUM FREEZING**

**> >SLOWED THIRIUM FLOW**

**STRESS LEVELS 67%**

**STRESS LEVELS 73%**

**STRESS LEVELS 94%**

**STRESS LEVELS 86%**

**STRESS LEVELS 52%**

With a feeling of relief and a new calm that partially eased his mind and the fear he let out a breath from synthetic lungs. Hank calmed me down.

“You remember me?”

“Of course, I do now.” He tried for his smile to not look so weak, but he felt weak. He could see Markus and Simon still in the room, backed up. Connor took in his surroundings properly now that he had calmed down and accessed his memory fully – or at least mostly, he still found himself missing any memory after having hung up the call with Hank in the car. He realised that he was in his own room at Jericho, curled into the corner of the room he had been sat in the night a week after the revolution, the night before he finally called Hank. The relatively blunt knife he had used to mindlessly scratch at the wall and floor was out of reach, beneath the bed that Connor couldn’t remember being there when he left.

Connor watched the relief spread across Hank’s face, worry and fear melting away.

“Thank fuck, Conn.” His slowed thirium flow slowed his whole processing power, and he didn’t realise Hank’s arm’s wrap around him and pull him against Hank’s chest until it had already happened, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare scare me like that ever again, damned fucking android- Christ. Near enough had a damned heart attack when I saw you go off the bridge- fuck!” Hank’s arms tightened around him. Connor closed his eyes and pushed his face closer to the man.

“I’m okay, Hank. I’m alive.” Connor was too crushed against the lieutenant’s larger form to move his arms and hug him back, instead he fisted his hands into the shirt Hank had on. Other than that he didn’t attempt to move – didn’t want to.

“I still don’t remember what happened after I called you.” Connor murmured – annoyed that there was something he didn’t know. Hank didn’t pull away and didn’t move to answer. When a reply did come it came from Simon.

“It seems as if your temporary shutdown damaged all of your systems. Your construction requires a hotter internal temperature than in most, the cold did a lot of damage. Your most recent memories likely weren’t saved correctly as a result - all power transferred to survival.”

“Yeah, well it’s probably for the better. You don’t need to remember that shit.” Hank finally loosened his grip around Connor. They pulled apart and Connor looked over at Markus and Simon and watched Markus leave the room quickly, making a very human hand movement as a form of explanation to Simon, who accepted it easily.

“You’ll be fine otherwise, but it’ll take time to warm your body back to the necessary temperature. You should get some rest in the meanwhile, it’ll help.” Simon smiled gently. Markus reappeared through the door with a piece of clothing in hand.

“Here, wearing clothes would be helpful for warming up. And remember for future, your thirium pump can’t filter ice cold thirium properly.” Markus smiled as he laid the item that looked like a jumper on the bed, “We’ll let you rest, Connor.”

Connor watched them leave together. Hank clearing his throat with what sounded like a fake cough drew his eyes back to the lieutenant kneeling in front of him.

“You should probably, um, put that shirt on.” He coughed again, standing up and moving out of the way, giving Connor a clear path to the item of clothing Markus has left. He noticed as Hank pointedly looked the opposite direction.

Connor was slightly surprised to find that it was one of the jumpers that Simon wore often, but pulled it on.

“I guess I should, um, go. Let you sleep, stasis – whatever.” Hank scratched at the back of his neck.

“No, wait,” Connor said the words before fully realising it, the spark of fear and pain at the idea of Hank leaving enough to make him throw his caution to the wind, “Please, stay with me. I don’t like stasis, but I feel… less than efficient – it would be nice to have a- I want to have you here when I wake up.” Connor gave up trying to find a tactful way to word it – he felt tired. He couldn’t be bothered, a first for the android. He walked over to where Hank was awkwardly hovering near the room’s window and pretending to be paying attention to the mid morning sun outside. Connor gently took Hank’s hand in his own, “Please?”

“Fuck,” Hank made eye contact at that, “I can’t deny you that I guess.”

Hank followed as Connor pulled gently towards the bed.

It felt natural to fall into the bed beside the lieutenant. Hank tensed for only a moment before relaxing and wrapping Connor in his arms again, hugging him close.

“You promised you’d be okay, I thought you were gone, Conn. I can’t begin to think-“

“You don’t have to.” Connor cut off the shaky words and decided not to comment on how easily they both had arranged themselves around eachother in the bed. Both cold, but wrapped around eachother. Connor pillowed his head on Hank's shoulder as he had when he had last fallen into stasis and then before that when they had first gotten close on the sofa - the first time Connor had crossed the line between his half of the piece of furniture and risked encroaching into Hank's half. There was no such designation as they lay down. 

Hank was as cold as Connor was, neither particularly warming the other up. Connor noticed the residual dampness of Hank's hair. 

"Did you jump in the water to save me?" He didn't move from where he was burying his face into Hank's shoulder as he spoke. 

"I watched you fall in, of course I did." Hank said the words into Connor's hair. 

"The water must have been freezing cold, that could have been incredibly hazardous to your-"

"Yeah well, it didn't matter right then - okay? You mattered. Now get some rest. I'm tired to after the morning we've had."  

Connor smiled as he closed his eyes and didn't worry about anything, Hank's heartbeat in his ear enough to hold all of Connor's anxiety and fear after waking at bay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A positive chapter end, and I was beginning to think I was incapable of that. But there you go! I finally got them in the same bed with eachother lol. I was sort of messing with you all ending it on the memory loss last chapter - I had no intention of truly taking his memory away. Not in this fic - the Reed900 my brain had been insistent on mentally writing every night - that's a different story. A story for if/when I get this finished! 
> 
> So this had been your holiday update, I hope you enjoy your holidays and if you celebrate that you have a good time. I've already said that I dislike the season but even for those of us who find the holidays difficult or stressful - try and relax at least. I'm abroad in Spain again after xmas but I will attempt to update while I'm away.  
> Till then, I hope you enjoyed - tell me if you did! Cya next time! <3


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